You're Either The Person You Are Or The Person You're Trying to Be
by VStark
Summary: She was lethal. No one knew. She won her games. They met, things escalated. A fictional story set between the 71st Hunger Games and the end of Mockingjay. Johanna's POV. Johanna/Finnick
1. Chapter 1

This is my first creation on here. I'm all for happy endings, so it will have one. Annie will exist in this story, but she will be more of a friend than anything. I have just always felt that Johanna & Finnick have more chemistry.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters created by Suzanne Collins.

It was almost too easy. Convincing the world that she was small and helpless, an easy target, a _weakling._ And as the timer counts down, she realizes just how important her deception will be in the coming days.

As it reaches one, her fellow tributes sprint off of their metal plates towards the cornucopia. She chooses to add to her implicated frailty, and makes for the woods.

Hours go by, she hides in a tree. Nine cannons have gone off. She tries to imagine who they were, how they died. But it isn't her problem, her only concern is herself. Sure, there was her district partner, but he was an idiot and she didn't need to be dragged down by him. He was missing in the fold within the first couple seconds of the initial blood bath. Chances are that he was gone anyway.

She leans her head against the trunk, and reminisces on her time at the Capitol. All the fake smiles, interviews, posh clothes… They surely were not the subtle type. She had also been acquainted with some of the past victors, though not enough to get tips. They were out for their own.

She remembered looking across the training center and making eye contact with the Capitol's dream boy, Finnick Odair. She wasn't sure if he had already been staring at her, or if their eye contact had been initiated at the same time. They stared at each other for several moments, his eyes full of interest and perhaps confusion. But her gaze was full of rage. He was going to train his tributes to kill her, therefore everyone, including him, was her enemy. Everyone except for Blight and Ina, that is.

Blight won his games about eight years before her, he wasn't what she would call a friend, but he was kind and conversational, even when she wasn't. She had decided the second that she was reaped that she would go into this a secret, a mystery. No one would know her methods or her desires. No one would know what she was capable of.

Ina was an older woman, having won the 33rd Hunger Games at the age of 17. She had been made victor when she chopped down a large tree, leading to it falling onto her last sleeping opponent.

In Johanna's interview with Caesar Flickerman, she giggled and smiled shyly, maintaining her innocent act. She would not have anyone know just how deadly she could be. She would have no one know that she had been practicing with her axe when no one was looking. Preparing for the day this would come, and somehow knowing that it would.

In the middle of the night, she is roused from her thoughts by the anthem, the lights flashing in the sky. She sees the faces of the tributes who have died. Two more cannons had gone off throughout the day, leaving eleven dead. She sees the face of her tribute partner. She isn't surprised, but she still feels a slight pain in her chest at the sight of his picture.

That means that there are thirteen tributes left, hiding somewhere in this jungle, and she is not friends with any of them. Morning comes, and she decides to make it back to the cornucopia. She makes it through a clearing and observes her surroundings. The arena is of a northern forest sort. Tall pine trees on all sides, with walnut trees and oaks camouflaged in the background. She slowly edges from her hiding spot among a few bushes and begins to run for the cornucopia. When she reaches her destination, she takes a deep breath and looks around.

There are rope, spears, a bow and arrow, none of which would suit her needs. None of which she knows how to use. She begins to grow restless, when she sees it. Back in the far right corner of the cornucopia: an axe. She walks over to it and claims it, testing its weight and becoming familiar with its grip. She also grabs a flask and a roll of first aid tape, and starts for the exit.

He is standing there, a tribute from 8. He's glaring at her, nostrils flared, sword in hand, prepared to attack. She blinks back, almost innocently, and then proceeds to move forward. He's lunging at her now, his sword in front of him, dancing clumsily. She evades his attacks easily and turns to come face to face with him once again. Surprise is evident in his eyes, he thought this would be easy. He thought she was a weakling, the whole world did. He moves in again, and this time she counters his attack with one of her own. She hits his jaw with the butt of her axe, sending him reeling backwards, but not landing on the ground. There is blood dripping from his lip, he is angry.

This time she initiates the deadly dance, coming towards him with full force, sweeping her leg under his own and thrusting the blade of her axe into his chest. He gargles, blood erupting from his mouth, and he stills. A cannon goes off.

She can hear all of Panem gasping in surprise. Innocent girl, she is cl00early not.


	2. Chapter 2

She beelines it back for the forest, to submerge herself in the vegetation and regain a hiding spot, when she is stopped halfway through the clearing by the girl from District eight. She is wielding a spear, and her eyes seem lost, afraid, and remorseful. She whispers, "I'm sorry," and juts her spear towards Johanna. She dodges it, just barely, and falls to the ground. The girl is now standing over her, prepared to impale her like a fish in water, and as her spear falls down, Johanna slides to her right, once again evading death.

She quickly stands up and readies her axe. The girl moves forward again, and Johanna knocks the spear to the side with her own weapon. This continues for several moments, until eventually axe meets spear and lobs the head off with a brute force unknown to either girl. The girl from District eight is left defenseless. Her weapon is destroyed, with no sharp edge to it. She stares at Johanna in surprise, and the two stand there, at an impasse for a minute or so until Johanna says "Get out of here," and turns around to leave.

The girl nods her head in understanding, but does not leave. Instead she picks the head of her spear up off of the ground and makes for Johanna's back. Johanna quickly turns around and with a quick sweep of her axe decapitates the girl in one motion. Another cannon sounds. The girls head rolls to the side of Johanna's foot, her mouth agape and eyes wide. Johanna's stomach churns in disgust as she turns around and heads back into the forest.

Five additional cannons go off that day, at random intervals and always spaced apart. She figures that the tributes must be on all sides of the arena, running into each other on accident and taking each other out. She finds fresh water and indulges herself for several minutes, filling her flask and moving on. Time goes on, and she sees a snake moving slowly through the underbrush. She had studied snakes at home, since she spends a lot of time outside chopping down trees, and she remembers seeing this one in a book. It is not poisonous. It's obvious that she isn't going to be able to hunt birds with her axe, so she decides that she must look elsewhere for food, and that means that snake is on the menu for tonight.

She edges closely to it, it's moving and it clearly knows she's there, but its ability to outrun her is not great, and she cuts its head off in a fell swoop. She knows that it'd be a death sentence to make a fire, so she eats it raw, gagging through the whole thing but knowing it is essential for her survival.

She is roused from sleep by the anthem once more, seven tributes have died today. She watches their faces in the sky, feeling remorseful. Both tributes from eight appear, and she feels like vomiting, but they asked for it. They cornered her. The anthem ends, and almost as if on cue, two cannons sound off. Making the total death count twenty. There are four of them left, the other three likely being members of the Career pack.

That means that they will be looking for her. They will take her out, and then they will turn on each other, that's how it's always been. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, drifting off into a deep sleep once more.

Morning comes and she's awake again, making her way through the forest, just wanting this to be over. She can feel the cold air biting at her neck, and she realizes it's snowing. Hours go by and she continues her trek through the woods, shivering, her breath now visible in the air. Are the game makers trying to freeze her out? She's about to set camp once more when she sees a strong smoke blowing up through the tree line. She's no idiot, she knows that they're trying to draw her there, and she is not going to disappoint. She makes for the sight with dignity and ease. As she approaches the opening, she sees the other districts approaching it as well from the other side. It looks like there's both the boy and girl from District One, and the boy from District Four.

The girl has a bow and arrow, the boy from One has a sword, and the one from Four has a trident. They are arguing about something, though she can't tell about what. Suddenly, the boy from One is lunging at the guy from Four, and the two are trapped in a one on one melee. The girl shrieks, picking up her bow and arrow and trying to aim, having trouble because she doesn't want to hit her partner. Regardless, she lets loose, and her arrow finds her partner in the back. She screams even louder this time, both stunned and ashamed, as the boy falls to his knees, turns his head around to look at her, and collapses. The cannon sounds, and the boy from Four is heading towards the girl. She tries to pick up her bow and aim at him, but she is too late, he impales her with his trident, blood spilling from the entry wound as she too hits the ground.

The boy takes a deep breath, looks around, and spots Johanna. She hadn't realized that she was so far in the clearing. She starts back, but before she can really register what's happening he's running towards her, his eyes on the prize. He knows as well as she does that they are the only two left, and there is something like murder reflecting in his gaze. She's running too, though less effectively. He's taller and broader than her, and she's stumbling through the now developed snow, trying to hold her footing.

She turns a corner and hides behind a large oak tree. She listens for his footsteps, they are not far away. As they draw closer, she can hear his breath hitch as he realizes that she's nearby as well. He doesn't want to give away his position. She's holding her breath, silencing out everything in the world other than the sound of his feet on the ground. It's light, but she can still detect where he is if she really pays attention. He's getting closer, and in three… two… one… she pounces out of her hiding spot and aims her axe at his head. He deflects it easily, sending the butt of his trident under her legs and flying to the ground. She makes an 'oof' noise as her back hits the snow, but she quickly gets up and continues her offense. He is swinging ferociously, she is deflecting and evading. He jabs at her and as she moves to avoid it, but not enough. It slices through her arm, blood coating her suit. She screams out in pain and stumbles backwards, her death imminent as he closes in on her.

He goes to impale her, the same way he did the girl from One. But she knows better, because when his trident comes forward, she holds her axe out, gripping it on both sides. She lands it on top of the trident, and uses what force she has to push it downwards and towards him, the trident flips downside and inserts itself into his flesh instead of hers. He is gasping, trying to hold onto something to keep from falling, but the trident is engulfed in his lower abdomen, and he is bleeding out.

She helps him onto the ground and stares into his eyes. She watches them until she sees the life leave them. She is pissed off. She wants to scream. She hates President Snow.

And the cannon sounds for one last time.


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't take long for the questions to start. "Did you have an adrenaline rush?" or "Were you always capable of those things?" The answers were always the same.

"I'm a master in disguise." With a grin, the audience would eat it up. In a way it was true. If anyone had known how capable she really was, she would've been one of the first targets. With them all thinking she was a helpless, scared little girl, they hardly thought of her existence at all.

The victory tour went smoothly, yet slowly. Johanna stopped at every District, starting at twelve. Eight was rather difficult, with both of the tributes families glaring at her from their posts. She cast her eyes downward and read the cards provided to her.

When in District Four, she found herself in the presence of _him_, once more. She could feel his sea-green eyes on her as she recited her speech, and it made her skin hot. She saw the family of the last boy she had killed, and they stared at her in anger. Didn't they know that she had no choice? Didn't they know that he attacked her first? The whole thing was ridiculous.

At the dinner held after her public appearance, she decided it was time to go to the bar. She deserved that much. She was halfway done with her second drink when she heard someone approaching her from behind.

"You killed my tribute," she could feel his warm breath against the back of her neck.

"He asked for it," she replied cooly.

Then he was shifting so that his body was next to hers, so she could see into his eyes. "He was just trying to survive, they were all trying to survive."

"And so was I."

"And so you did." He winked. What was he getting at?

"I'll have something strong," He ordered the bartender, before returning his attention back to Johanna. "So how did you do it? How did you fool an entire country?"

"It was rather easy, really. Everyone here is an idiot." She smirked.

"I'm far from it, and yet I didn't see through your girly, weak façade." He counters. "So when did you decide to do it?"

"From the get go. I knew that if I showed my true potential, the Careers would either want me for an ally and then kill me once the other Districts were dead, or they would see me as a primary threat and come after me immediately."

"So you made everyone think you were defenseless, and a sweet little girl…" He almost sounded like he was admiring her.

"Yes," she snapped. Hadn't she already made this clear?

"Feisty, as well as strong. You'll eat the Capitol's hearts in due time." He said between sips, his drink having come several moments ago.

"I could care less if those Capitol idiots find me valuable. I just want them to leave me alone until the end of time." A small smile formed on his face, almost like he knew that wasn't possible. He leaned in close to her ear, she could feel his breath and his lips grazing her ear lobe,

"If only that could happen," and he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the tour went smoothly. She waved when required and provided fake smiles to her _adoring_ fans. There was only one stop left: the Presidential Palace.

Ina and Blight had told her that this would be the biggest stop yet. A huge party, one that she could never even imagine. She scoffed in response. She didn't care about flare or attention, she just wanted to go home to her new house and be left alone; but she couldn't seem to get what Finnick Odair had last said to her out of her mind…

_If only that could happen. _

What did he mean by that? She had considered what he was implying in a million different ways, but she could never figure it out. If she saw him at this party, she would make sure to corner him and find out.

Upon arrival, she couldn't help but be a little impressed. The lights were everywhere, dazzling, remarkably laid out on the lawn, the buildings, the people… There were entertainers juggling balls of fire, and everywhere she looked there was _color. _She had become accustomed to the Captolian way of life, but with everything thrown together the way it was tonight, she found herself awed by it.

Ina led her through the crowd of people. Some were clapping for her, some were reaching out to touch her. Tonight she was wearing a dark green dress that represented the color of a pine tree. One of the many she had cut down in her life, and one of the many that had been in her arena. It was tight, cinching all along her body to accentuate her curves properly. It cut down between her breasts in a V shape, not leaving much to the imagination. While she didn't particularly like being flaunted about like some hussy, she did approve of the way she looked, and she looked _good. _

She spent about an hour eating before people began asking her to dance. She accepted each one's proposal, but only just barely. She wanted to go to home and sleep.

Across the dance floor she spotted him. Dressed in a black suite and dancing with a small, nervous looking red head, he looked radiant. She inwardly cursed at herself for the thought, and averted her gaze. It didn't take him long to notice her either, since by the next song he was arrogantly approaching her and asking her dance partner if he could have a turn.

"Of course, Mr. Odair," the man said, and handed her over almost too eagerly.

Finnick took her by the waist, and began to move. She reluctantly folded her hands behind his neck, and they swayed with the music. "You look lovely tonight," he acknowledged, and she followed his statement by finally looking up into his eyes. They seemed sincere, but she wasn't going to fall for his charm.

"I know. But I also know that I'm not the only woman you've said that to tonight." She smirked. She wasn't like every other girl, she wouldn't swoon at his compliments, she would stand her ground.

"That's true, you aren't." He retorted. He almost sounded annoyed. _What_?

She couldn't help herself. "Let me guess, that pretty little redhead?" _What had gotten into her?_

"Yes, actually. And doesn't she look beautiful?"

"I said she was pretty didn't I?" At the knowledge that she was appearing jealous, she tried to move out of his grasp and walk away. He refused to release her, though, hardening his grip on her hips and staring intently into her eyes.

"Let me go." She insisted, trying harder to pull away. He only held her tighter, and looked past her into the distance.

"We should talk somewhere more private," he whispered. He didn't sound kind, but he didn't sound cruel either. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but regardless, she let him guide her away from the dance floor and into a garden area behind a tree. They were no longer in ear shot of other party goers, and no one could see them. He shoved her against the tree and released her. "Things are going to change now."

"Oh yeah? How so?" She had attitude etched in her every feature. Her face, her posture, her tone.

"You are a victor. The Capitol will expect things of you… things you will not want to do." He grimaced. She could tell he meant what he said.

"I won't let them do anything to me. I won't be one of their puppets."

"That's what I used to think, and now…" He trailed off. He looked ashamed. Embarrassed.

"Now what? What did they do to you?" She was truly curious, and a bit afraid of the answer.

"You'll find out soon enough, and when you do, do _not_ refuse them," he advised.

"Thanks for the warning Finnick, but I'll make it on my own without your advice." She began to move away, but he took hold of her arm and shoved her against the tree once more. She was glaring at him. "_Let me go_."

"I'm trying to help you, Johanna."

"Well I don't need your help, Odair," she ground out between clenched teeth. She didn't have time for this. The President's speech would be any minute, and Ina would have her head if she missed it. Especially considering that it was for her. He didn't move a muscle, just looked into her eyes with a tense dignity that she hadn't seen before. She was getting sick of this, she raised her hand to smack him, to do anything to make him release his hold on her, when he surprised her by moving his mouth on top of hers.

She didn't do anything at first, just stared wide-eyed into the distance beyond. She didn't know when, but at some point she closed her eyes and actually began to move her lips against his. She opened them when he probed his tongue between, seeking entrance. The kiss had started off gentle, but it was quickly escalating into something _more_. She brought her hands up and fisted them in his blonde hair, his hands were roaming her body, seeking purchase. Their tongues were clashing together, moving in sync and yet not in sync at all. They were battling for dominance, and both she and Finnick were moaning in appreciation. She came up for air after several minutes, and his mouth moved to her neck, biting and sucking. She breathed out a deep sigh before returning to their rhythm, her lips on his once more.

He moved his hand to her hip and hiked her leg up, her dress came with it and uncovered her limb up to her thigh. He was caressing it, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like her name. He ground against her with his pelvis and she heard herself groan in appreciation. The whole thing probably would've gone further if they hadn't suddenly heard a microphone being displaced.

They pulled apart instantly, lips red from the contact. They stared into each other's eyes for a brief moment before Johanna walked back towards the party. _What the hell was that?_

She made her way to the center of the dance floor and looked up to see President Snow on his balcony, just beginning his speech.

"Johanna Mason proved her valor through deception, intelligence, and combat skills," he looked down into the crowd and made eye contact with her. His eyes were snake-like, and he was grinning at her. "She has proven through the Games that she is worthy of being our 71st Victor, and the odds were certainly in her favor. Tonight this party is dedicated to celebrating her achievements, and her unwillingness to ever give up. May we all toast to her in admiration." The whole of the party guests raised their champagne glasses and drank, following with a loud cheer. She looked across the floor where Finnick had now appeared, he was toasting as well.

Their eyes met before she looked down towards her feet in disgust. She was not one of those women. She was independent, brave, and strong. She would not fall for someone such as himself.

She looked back up to find him gone, and the fireworks began. She would be going home soon, and everything would go back to normal.


	5. Chapter 5

Here is a big 'THANK YOU' to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed! :D

I know it's been a few days but just so you know my goal is to update several times a week. I'm very busy outside of this online world with school and work so I'll do my best! This is also the first time that I've ever done any writing outside of school, and anything along this rating… So please bear with me. Also: It has been some time since I have read Mockingjay, so not all of the background information on Jo may be right. I apologize if there are inaccuracies.

Enjoy!

She went home the day after the celebration at the Presidential Palace, feeling both relieved and confused. What was the Capitol going to force her to do? Could she trust Finnick? Not yet she couldn't, she hardly knew the guy. And yet she had basically collapsed when his lips had met hers. Surely it was from shock, and the couple of drinks she had had. Normally she would never give into a man that easily, especially a man as caught up in himself as Finnick Odair.

Upon her arrival back home her father embraced her, followed by her little brother.

"Did you have fun?" He pulled back, grinning. He was freshly showered and shaven, and she could tell that he was enjoying his new home. Her brother, friendly as can be, approached her second and wrapped his arms around her waist, burrowing his head into her stomach.

"I am fully committed to being home, if you catch my meaning," she smirked in reply. Her father put his arm around her and led her into the kitchen where he had dinner waiting for her. Fresh pork covered in sweet sauce, mashed potatoes, baked asparagus, an assortment of cheeses… Just the homecoming that she had needed. And none of that pink drink that the anorexics at the Capitol passed around to throw up.

She ate to her fullest potential, kissed both her dad and brother on the cheek, and went to bed in her new room. It was warm, and that made her angry. The people who provided it to her were murderers. But maybe it wasn't fair to call them murderers anymore, considering that she was one herself.

Weeks went by and she grew accustomed to her new life. She offered help financially to those in need when she was able and she still worked to get lumber, but things had certainly changed. People didn't look at her the same anymore. Some of them even turned away when she walked down the street. Children avoided her, adults gave her little attention, nodding curtly when in her presence. Had she done something to cause this? Oh yeah, just murdered three young adults on television and reaped the rewards of it. She now had more money than almost anyone in District 7. She wondered if this is how Ina and Blight had felt after their games.

There were nights when she would start awake, a cold sweat having broken out across her chest, her heartbeat fast, but she could never remember the dream. This one was different.

She was running in a dark forest, so dark that there wasn't even a moon to light her way. She could hear the voices of the two tributes she killed from eight calling out to her. The girl said "I'm sorry," and the boy just kept repeating her name. She was running in circles trying to find where their voices were coming from when she stopped in a clearing. There was a figure standing there, it was tall, broad, strong… definitely a male. Looming over her, it inched in her direction, slowly but surely. She stood her ground, anxious to know who or what this shadow was. A brief flash of light enabled only in her dreams streamed across his face, and she now understood. It was the boy from District Four. The last boy she had killed. She didn't run, she didn't scream, she walked towards him to close the distance. She reached her hand up to his heart, but she didn't feel any rhythm, any beat. _He's dead. He's dead. _She told herself, but surely in dreams things can appear alive? Surely in dreams things can be better? She was wrong.

The shadowed boy screamed her name in anger and shoved her to the ground. His trident was lodged in his abdomen, just where she had stabbed him in the games. He yanked it out, seemingly unaffected by it, and aimed it at Johanna's head. As he pushed the trident forward, about to make impact –

She woke with a scream. Not a yelp, a gasp, or a slight whimper. A _scream. _She looked around her room. She was alone. But was she? That boy's soul could be standing over her even now, refusing to leave her side out of anger. She had to stop thinking like this.

She went to the bathroom and got into the cabinet standing over the sink. The doctor had prescribed her sleeping medicine, so she popped a few in and went back to bed.

Morning came, and she was awoken by her father's knock on the door. "You have company, Jo." She didn't really know who would be visiting her, better yet who would be visiting her at _this_ hour. She was less than decent and she didn't really care. She threw on a short robe and exited her room. There were two Capitol men standing outside of her door.

"This way ma'am," As if they were in charge of her? Her father glared at her to let her know _this_ _is not the time, obey_.

And so she did. They ushered her forward into a reading room, designated for her father's work, and for studying for her brother. There was a desk that was hardly used, and behind that, sat President Snow. She wasn't surprised, she had expected this since Finnick's warning at the Presidental Palace.

"Hey there, old pal. To what do I owe the pleasure?" She smiles as she enters the room and takes a seat across from him.

"Johanna Mason, you know better than to address me as such," he grinned in return, but it was a façade. He was not pleased with the way that she was talking to him. Too bad.

"So why are you here?" She quickly bit out. She just wanted this conversation to be over so that she could go on with her day.

"As a Victor, the Capitol expects certain things of you. And we've given you time with your family, time to relax. That time has come to an end. You are to come with us back to the Capitol tonight."

"And why, may I ask, is that? And what for?"

"You will find out soon enough, Johanna Mason. The Capitol has further use of you."

She didn't really know what to make of this. _The Capitol has further use of you._ What would they want that they already hadn't taken?

Regardless she was ushered onto a train headed off to the Capital. She felt alone, but then she remembered her dream. She wasn't alone, the children whose lives she had taken were with her. Yes, she could feel them now, and something told her she always would. She was forever haunted.


	6. Chapter 6

She entered the main Capitol building surrounded by guards. The President was not with her, he had even taken the liberty of being flown back rather than using the train with her. _Trains were too main stream, and above his social status_, she thought. The guards led her down a hallway to a hotel room, and opened it for her.

And that is how she found herself stuck in the annoyingly beautiful nation Capitol once more.

She ate dinner and watched TV, a lot of it being about her. It showed highlights of her games and she ordered the avox assigned to her to turn it off. Watching it made it more real, and at her core Johanna Mason was a pretender. She would pretend none of this had ever happened, just like she pretended she was weak. It would be simple. A knock came at the door at about eight, and two guards stood there waiting.

They were leading her back down the hall when suddenly a door was closing in front of them and a person was hurriedly exiting the hotel room it enclosed. It only took her a moment to register who it was: Finnick Odair.

He was standing in the middle of the hallway now, half naked, his bare chest gleaming with what appeared to be sweat. Why would he be sweating like that? _Oh_.

She made contact with his eyes and saw shame. "Nice outfit pretty goy," she got out and continued past him with her guards. He opened his mouth almost as if he wanted to say something, but quickly snapped it shut.

How disgusting. He not only makes every woman in the country want him, but he actually fulfills their desires. She wanted to run back in his direction and punch him in the face for being such a pig, for being such a womanizer. But she could feel the guard's hand on her back, and she trudged on in the direction it wordlessly aimed her towards.

It wasn't long before she was standing outside of a red carven door, waiting to be ushered in. She was sure it was the President. Only his bloodlust and blood breath could call for a door so _disarming_. She entered at his bidding and took a seat across from him as she had earlier in the day.

"Johanna Mason, such a pleasure."

"I am, aren't I?" she grinned.

"Now to get to business, you will be expected to carry out two clienteles a week. Fail to do so and you will be thoroughly punished." His voice was simple.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you talking about?" She truly had no idea what anything he just said had meant.

"You are now the Capitol's property, and you will do as I command," he barked out. She was taken aback a bit by his tone. He generally conceals it so well. "I command you to 'meet' with clients twice a week minimum and do whatever they desire you to do. Sleep with them, stay with them, feed them grapes, lick their feet, you will fulfill their every wish, and in doing so you will be obeying me and therefore obeying the law."

She stared at him in shock. Was he trying to make her a hooker?

"I'm sorry, are you saying that I have to be your prostitute?" She ground out.

"I wouldn't say it like that, but yes that is exactly what I'm expecting of you." He replied cooly. His eyes were meeting hers evenly and he did not flinch. He meant what he said.

"You have gotta be fucking kidding me, you are delusional if you think I'm going to do any of that. Lick people's feet, feed them grapes, _fuck_ them!" She was screaming now, and at some point she had stood up. "I am _not_ your property, I am _free_ of you, and I make my _own_ decisions!" She stomped her foot for emphasis, but all it did was make her appear a child. Snow was grinning, enjoying the show she was performing for him.

"You will do this, or there will be consequences. And trust me, Ms. Mason, once the punishments have been paid you will regret your decision." He eerily sounded to be enjoying this torture, stirring up a plan to get her to commit. It wasn't going to work.

"We will see what you can cook up, _Mr. President_. Until then, I am my own woman." And she left the room with a slam of the door.

She was on her way to her room to retire for the night when she knocked into Finnick once more. This time he was fully clothed, but the clothes were tight enough that she could make out his hard muscles underneath. She had every intention of strutting by like she didn't know him, not even giving him the time of day, but his arm stretched out and pulled her to him.

"Now you see, huh? They are making me do these things, Jo." He was holding both of her shoulders in place and forcing her to look him in the eyes. "They are using the attractive victors to continue making money even after the games are done. Don't you get it? You have no choice."

"Oh I have a choice." Her voice was cold. Deadly. "And my choice is to not give in, not one man or woman will be touching me unless I want them to. And that includes you." She wrenched herself out of his grasp and continued walking.

"Johanna, I'm sorry that it's come to this, I had a feeling that it would, but I am the friend. I am not the enemy. They are." He opened his arms wide and held them up high directing them towards the Capitol. "They are the ones making you do this. Not me. I am your ally." He was barely keeping pace with her as she was practically running back to her own room. She entered the room and when she tried to shut it his arm was there preventing it from closing. He was strong, so he overpowered her and slammed the door wide open, following her in, roughly closing the door behind him. "Remember who the real enemy is."

"I'm aware of who the real enemy is, Odair. I'm just not aware of who is working for them." She turned around to face him. He was glaring at her.

"I'm getting really sick of trying to prove myself to you." He was pissed.

"Oh Really? We hardly know each other, and I'm just supposed to believe every word you say?" She barked back. "You knew what Snow was going to ask of me, but you didn't tell me. You just warned me that he was going to say _something_. That was truly helpful. All I did was consider the options in my head for months, going insane. You really did me a favor there, buddy." She was almost laughing.

"I couldn't tell you exactly what it was. If you had gone in there knowing what he was going to ask you, it would've been etched all over your face, and I would've had to pay. The people I _love_ would've had to pay. He'd have known I confided in you." His jaw clenched.

She was walking towards him now, almost on her tip toes, playfully. "And we couldn't have your red head girlfriend in trouble, now could we?" She flicked the collar of his suite, and he grabbed her hand.

"She is my good friend, she's like a sister to me, and why does it matter to you if I have a girlfriend or not?"

"Because I'd feel bad for any girlfriend you have. Just leaving them at home while you parade yourself around the country, sticking your junk anywhere you please…" He shoved her, eyes blazing.

"Anywhere _he_ pleases." He was clearly talking about Snow, she knew that. But it almost sounded like he was talking about a different _he_ and it made her chuckle and look downwards. "Why do you care anyway?"

"I don't," her response was simple.

"You do," he retorted, his eyes unreadable. She hadn't realized how close they were standing until now. They weren't touching, other than his hand grasping her wrist at their sides from when she had touched his collar. He pulled her closer with it.

"I don't," she breathed out.

"You do." Their mouths were now an inch apart.

"I don't." And he brought his free hand into her hair and pulled her lips to his. She moaned at the contact and instantly complied.

He pulled back after several minutes, "You do," he said again, and moved to her neck where he was doing something magical that made it so she couldn't respond.

She was gripping at his suite jacket, squeezing so tightly she thought it might rip, he was guiding her backwards, _towards the bed_, she thought, but when her back hit a hard, upright surface, she realized it was the wall. He ground against her, and with the movement he moaned against her neck. He was _hard_. She opened her legs wider to grant him greater access to her still clothed core. He moved forward again, and this time they both were gasping from the impact. He brought his lips back to hers and thrust his tongue inside, lapping over hers in a practiced rhythm. She couldn't help but wonder if this is what he does with his _clients_. But now was not the time to worry about it. He took both of his hands and lifted her up, she obliged him by wrapping them around his waist. He ground against her once more. Their clothing had become an unwelcome barrier, so she parted her lips from his and whispered in his ear, "the bed." He nodded and carried her to it, gently dropping her and pulling his upper layers off, revealing a broad, bare chest.

She was wearing a dress, so she would have trouble removing it from a sitting position. She went to stand up but he shoved her back down. "Let me," he smirked and moved his mouth onto hers again. The dress was off in a matter of seconds.

He positioned himself on top of her, his left elbow holding him afloat, and she suddenly felt his right hand trailing down her body starting from her neck. It grazed her breast and still continued lower, onto her stomach where it trailed happy circles around her belly button, and still lower…

It found her panties and edged them off, she helped by shifting her legs until her underside was completely bare. He separated his mouth from hers and looked into her eyes as his fingers found the spot, and began to massage carefully. She gasped in appreciation, and he continued, watching her facial expressions, watching what he was doing to her.

He left his thumb where it was and moved two lower and slid them inside, this time she actually made a little shriek and her back arched off of the bed. He lowered his mouth onto one of her breasts and sucked, his mouth in tune with what his fingers were doing below. He was an artist at this, she realized, and she never wanted him to stop. That's why when he removed his fingers, his mouth and shifted his body away from her she groaned in disapproval. "What the hell, Odair?"

"Couldn't let you reach the finish line without me, Mason." He was off the bed removing his pants. Then in a sudden movement he was back on the bed, back on top of her, and positioned in between her legs. He didn't ask her if it was okay, he didn't need to. It was apparent that it was. So he shifted her legs a bit further apart and shoved himself inside of her.

She saw stars, she swore she did. She had had sex before but this was different, _primal_. He moaned her name upon entry, and was now still above her, adjusting to her size. Several moments passed and he began to move slowly. Each thrust perfectly timed and somehow always hitting the perfect spot.

His arm was snaked around her left side, elbow turned up so that he could stay afloat, but it was getting shaky as his pleasure increased. She reached up and began to kiss him, their tongues mingling in the rhythm that their bodies were. He reached his hand between them and found her most tender spot once more, and she separated their lips so she could moan out in appreciation. He burrowed his head in the crook of her neck as he increased the pace.

Now they were both moaning loudly, each other's names, last names, terms of endearment, all in the throes of passion that were common among lovers. _Lovers_. This man was not her lover, and yet he was touching her, feeling her, and giving to her in the way that a lover would. She was no virgin, but he was making her feel like she should have waited until she met someone like him who could treat her body this way.

When she was sure that she could hold on no more, he released inside of her, his breath hot and heavy on her neck, she was not long to follow, as his hand was still between them working her spot. He released his left elbow that had been holding him up, and collapsed on top of her. She could still breathe, so she didn't mind. She could feel his heart beating against her skin. He could probably feel hers too.

He rolled over and sprawled out next to her. He brought his hand to her face, and then to her hair. He was staring into her eyes with such kindness that she wanted to cry. And then he broke the silence, making her want to die.

"My next client is in an hour," he rolled out between his teeth. She on the other hand, rolled out from beneath his touch.

"That is disgusting, get out of my room." She got off of the bed, threw on a robe, and stared at herself in a mirror that was mounted on a nearby wall.

"You know what I am, Johanna. And you chose to do this anyway."

"You know what I am, Odair, and I chose to do this in a moment of weakness," she turned around to look at him to see hurt in his eyes. "I won't play second in this world of prostitution and.. and..

"Whores? Because technically that is what I am." He was getting up now, putting on his clothes. "I have to do what I do, I have to protect my family."

"I have a family, too. And I'm not sleeping with every person on the planet." He turned his head around from what he was doing to shoot an intense glare at her.

"Say whatever you want, Johanna, but you are pretty good at it. Hit me up next time you're in the Capitol if you're in need of my _services_." He was fully dressed now, on his way to the door.

"I would never." She was staring bullet holes into his skull as he exited her room.


	7. Chapter 7

On her way back from the Capitol, she couldn't help but retrace the steps she had made to end up in bed with Finnick Odair. She had been pretty easy, honestly, and it was embarrassing.

She pressed her forehead to the glass of the train window and sighed, her breath left a foggy mark, and it reminded her of his own breath on her skin. She shivered.

She had to stop thinking of him and now.

And so she did.

The train arrived back home in Seven around seven at night, which was fitting. She would be home before her father put dinner away. She was walking through the streets, which were eerily quiet for this time of night. They had curfew, but it wasn't until eight, so where was everyone?

She made it to her front door and found that it was locked. Setting her bags down, she fished through the pocket where she knew she had put her house key. She unlocked the door, reclaimed her bags in each hand, and kicked it open. It too, was eerily quiet. The lights were out and she suddenly got the feeling that something was wrong. _Very_ wrong.

"Dad?" She called out. No answer. She set her bags down and continued in through the main hallway. "Dad?" Her voice was more frantic now. She knew something was wrong.

She was running. "Dad!" Dodging through the rooms, looking left and right, all to no end. There was no one. There was only one room left to check, the study where Snow had visited her only two days before. She approached it, holding her breath, and turned the door knob. It easily clicked under her touch and rolled open.

Her entire world fell to pieces.

Her father was sitting in the same chair Snow had, his wrists bound to the sides and a bullet in his brain. His neck was bent backwards, his mouth agape, blood pouring out from where the bullet had entered. There was no exit wound indicating that it had lodged itself inside of his brain.

Her brother got the worst of it. He was dangling, feet first from the ceiling. There were cuts all over his small, delicate body. Each of them clearly put there to create a slight amount of damage, but a great amount of pain. It was evident what had happened here. Peacekeepers.

They had probably tied them both up, and forced her father to watch as they slowly bled her young brother out. His last dying moment was probably the sight of his child hanging limp from a rope in their own home.

She collapsed on the ground and buried her face in her hands. _Snow_. He had done this. This was her _punishment_ for not being his obedient little _whore_. She had killed her family, and yet she hadn't. He had.

She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. She laid there for what seemed like a few minutes, but when someone came walking into the room, she found that it was two whole days later. It was Ina.

"My god, Johanna, what happened?"

"Snow happened." She sighed, standing up and straightening herself. She expanded her arms to the area around her, to her dead family. "I refused him, so he took all I had, figures." She was laughing. How inappropriate, and yet she couldn't stop. She was delirious. Ina was approaching her and wrapping her arms around her to steady her, but Johanna just kept maniacally laughing at something no one else seemed to see but her. The irony of it all.

"We need to get you to a doctor, we need to call the Peacekeepers to come get the bodies." Ina started.

"The _Peacekeepers_, did this!" She was shouting at the poor old woman. She didn't deserve it, she was just naïve. Having lived with what the Capitol did for so long she had unwittingly accepted it, and it in part made Johanna despise her. "They know perfectly well that they have two dead bodies hanging out in this house. They're just acting like they don't so the government doesn't have to take the blame."

"Let's get you to a doctor, let's go see Blight." The elder was clearly uneasy at the thought of being in the room with the decaying corpses anymore, so Johanna decided to take mercy on her and oblige.

"I'll leave, but I'm not staying in Seven. I'm going to the Capitol. I have work to do." Ina nodded, and by sundown Johanna was back on a train, her expression stoic and her manner impassive. Whenever an attendant tried to approach her, she barked "go away," and they did. She didn't sleep, she didn't eat, she just focused on one thought. Getting to Snow.

They arrived in the Capitol the next day, and she made her way for the red door she had come to loathe so much. She shoved it open and found him staring out over the whole of the Capitol through a large window. "Ah, Ms. Mason, I knew I'd be seeing you again." He turned around and winked at her. "I see you've received your punishment?"

She sprung towards him with full force, knocking over a plant and jumping over his desk to get to him. She grabbed a fork that he had left there next to his empty plate, and shoved it up against his throat. "You son of a bitch!" She screamed.

He was laughing. "Ms. Mason, you are too predictable. Put the fork down _now_." His laugh had turned to a harsh growl, and she found herself being compelled by those wicked eyes. "I told you you would regret your decision when the consequences came to you, did I not? You failed to heed my warning, and now look at where you are… Back to square one, back in my grasp, in my control, and a whole family less…" Now he was grinning again. She began to spring towards him once more but two guards were on her, holding her arms down and pulling her away. "I expect you to be a good girl and do as you're told now. Lord knows you have to have a cousin or something in the fold, someone you went to school with you would like to see reach adulthood? Your first client is tonight."

The Peacekeepers yanked her out of the room and back to her old hotel room. They urged her inside and locked the door once she was. She was alone. "No you're not," she heard the girl she killed from District Eight whisper. "I'm right here with you."


	8. Chapter 8

Again, thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews! You guys keep me going in a world where I'm not quite sure I belong.

Onto the next one…

She had a team assigned to get her ready for her first client. She was told that their names were Flavius, Octavia, and Cinna. The first two were just Capitol idiots, but Cinna seemed of a different sort. He didn't seem to give into all of the glitz and glamour, and he was there to do a job. She could tell that he felt bad for her, that he knew what she was going to do, and that made her want to cry. But she had cried enough, she had spent every hour up to this point crying. Crying for herself, crying for the girl from District Eight, crying for her family… She was done crying. Forever.

"You have a great figure, Johanna," Cinna was saying. He really was kind.

"Thank you," she meant it.

Since it wasn't a televised appearance, they only spent about an hour on her. She was wearing a low cut, short blue dress. It was tight up top and fell to be loose down low, but being so short it didn't leave much to the imagination. She was given red stilettos and her hair was put up in a ponytail, it dangled down to her mid-back.

"Fabulous, it rhymes with Flavius!" Flavius was giggling. He was stupid. The two hardly rhymed. She did have to admit she looked good, though.

About fifteen minutes after the team left, a knock sounded at her door. Anxiously, she approached it and opened it up to find an attractive man about ten years her senior. He didn't look like the prostitute purchasing type at all.

"Ms. Mason, it's truly an honor to meet you. You were fantastic in your games," he reached out and took her hand, kissed it and released it.

"Nice to meet you too, you are?" She grinned seductively. If she was going to be forced to do this, she had might as well have some fun with it.

"My name is Colombus. I am a trader of sorts here in the Capitol. Shall we?" He extended his arm for her to take and led her down the hallway. After several minutes of walking they came to a popular club and called for seating. It was granted immediately.

"So how have you been since you won your games?" He was asking all the wrong questions. If only he had just kept his mouth shut throughout this entire experience, sleeping with him might have come more easily.

"It's been fabulous, it rhymes with Flavius." She smiled coyly, he clearly didn't understand as he looked at her in confusion.

And hour into their dinner she spotted Finnick across the room. He was leaning on the bar next to a woman who had far too much make up on. It was clear that she was pretty underneath it all, however. He was staring intently back at Johanna, his eyes blazing a trail down her figure. She inwardly groaned in both annoyance and attraction. He was wearing a suite similar to the one he had worn the night they had been together. It was inducing all-too familiar memories.

She gulped loudly, finished her drink and asked Colombus if she could be excused to the ladies room. He made some comment about it being co-ed and winked at her, but she was already walking away. She roughly brushed past Finnick, emphasizing her anger with the force of her shoulder as she walked by him and his colorful date, and made it to the bathroom.

Colombus was right, it was co-ed, and there was only one toilet inside. It was a single room to be used by a single person, and yet the lock on the door was broken. She was figuring out a way to barricade herself inside when the door was shoved open from outside.

"Occupied!" She screamed as she turned around to see Finnick. His jaw was clenched and his hair was disheveled, and he was trying to say something to her through his eyes, though she couldn't tell what. He grabbed the trash can from against the wall and thrust it underneath the door knob, enabling their seclusion. She was about to demand he get out when he was grabbing her face and forcing her mouth to his.

His tongue went instantly inside of her mouth, dominating her entire being. She was beginning to lose herself in the kiss when she realized what she was doing. How weak she was being. She took both of her palms and laid them on his broad chest, and shoved him backwards against the wall.

"Oh, you wanna take control now?" He was grinning, his dimples evident on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?!" She chirped. She didn't understand how he could be so formal and then so… informal.

"What I've been thinking about since I last saw you."

"You just saw me, across the bar. So I guess you haven't been thinking about it that long." She came out cross, and she meant it.

"You know what I meant, the last time I _saw_ you."

"Well I hope you hold onto that memory for a long time, Odair, because you will never get another one like it." She crossed her arms protectively, they were several feet apart, but she could never know when he would just pounce across the distance and take her as his captive once more.

"Why's that? That Colombus guy out there? Yeah I know who he is. He's been buying whores for years." He guffawed. She glared.

"So now I'm a whore?" She knew she wasn't being fair. Maybe she just liked a healthy argument every now and then.

"Yup." He clicked between his teeth. His beautiful, shiny teeth that she couldn't help but notice… "I don't like it either. I don't like the thought of other men touching you." Now he was frowning, and not a fake, half ass frown. He was legitimately angry at the thought.

"I'm not your property, I'm President Snow's property." She arched her chin upwards as if to display attitude.

"You may be his official property, but you are _mine_." He tilted his head downwards so that their eyes could make more complete contact.

"And what does that make you?"

"Well, I'm yours, obviously." He stated without question. She couldn't help but smile. She moved to close the distance between them and found his mouth with her own. She opened her lips to allow his tongue entrance once more and proceeded to bite down on it. He groaned. She knew that they didn't have time for this, she knew that their dates would notice. But she couldn't help herself. Her week had been so shitty, all she wanted was to be with someone she could actually tolerate, even like.

He moved her back against the sink and lifted her up onto it. She spread her legs eagerly as his hand found the spot through her panties. She gasped in approval and kissed along his jaw. She brought her hand down his abdominals and into the fly of his pants, he inhaled and held his breath until he felt her grip on him. He settled his head in the crook of her neck and breathed out heavily, jerking forward into her palm in a steady rhythm.

He moved back an inch to look into her eyes, he took the left sleeve of her dress and slid it down her shoulder to reveal more skin. He followed up this advance by placing rough kisses on the now exposed skin, still shifting his hardness into her hand. He bit into her shoulder and she could tell that he was close, but before she could increase the pace for his own pleasure, he removed her hand and moved back enough to arch both hands underneath the sides of her panties and slide them off. He approached her fully once more and shoved into her, grunting at the sensation. She wrapped her legs around him and let him keep the pace. He was moving slowly, enjoying every inch of her, and she was arching her back, holding herself up with her hands on the counter. Every so often her head would come into contact with the mirror, but it was a good pain, not a bad one.

He was biting her neck, grunting, and she was moaning softly into the air above them, when finally they both crashed down from their high. He thrust inside a few more times before he completely stilled inside of her. They sat there in the same position for about a minute before he planted a kiss on her forehead and moved out of her, going to clean himself up and zip his fly. She reclaimed her panties and pulled her sleeves back up to conceal what she could.

He moved the trash can out of the way and turned to her, whispering "You are mine," and then he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Her first "appointment" with Colombus was uneventful other than her short rendezvous with Finnick in the bathroom. She was grateful that all Colombus was interested in was getting to know her the first time around. He asked her question after question about her games, walked her to her hotel door, and pecked her on the cheek. It was relieving to know that at least some of the men in the Capitol could be gentlemen. Or at least appear to be.

Her second client's name was Rafael, and he was interested in more than just a peck on the cheek, much to her dismay. It made her feel dirty, and used. He had to be mid-forties and he could probably be her father in another lifetime. He would've been young when she was born, but it was completely possible given their age difference. The thought made her think of her real father, and all that did was make her pissed off. How she had managed to find herself in this situation was unbeknownst to her, how she let Snow pressure her into being his sex slave was infuriating, and she wasn't sure how long she could keep it up.

She never really saw Finnick, and she was actually grateful. After his declaration in the club bathroom, she once again hated herself for being so easy. She wasn't sure what it was about him that made her feel so _weak_, but she had had enough of it for a lifetime. She wasn't going to sleep with him again.

It had now been seven months since her Victory, and that meant that the 72nd Hunger Games were rapidly approaching. She was dreading it, dreading the thought of having to mentor other children just to see them die in the arena. She knew Ina and Blight would be with her, but she had a feeling that her first attempt at helping one of them survive would be disastrous. The other victors knew of her technique now, and it would not work for the next District Seven tributes. They would warn their tributes that the show of weakness could be fake, and her own would be dead within the first few minutes. Therefore, she wasn't sure what help she would be to these new tributes. All she had ever known was how to lie, how to deceive, and how to wield an axe.

Most kids in Seven knew how to use an axe. It came naturally after spending so many hours in the woods cutting down trees. Kind of like how most kids in Four knew how to use a spear or a trident from spearing fish, and spending so much time in the water. The talent with the weapons varied, but almost every year the tributes from certain districts used the same type.

Her nightmares continued. They almost always featured the three she had killed in the arena, the boy from Four always with his trident in his stomach, and the girl always murmuring quietly, "I'm sorry." But now they also featured her brother and father. Sometimes she would dream that she was a fly in her study the day that they were killed, and she would witness _first-hand_ how it had all went down. Those were the worst, she would wake with a cold sweat and couldn't sleep for the remainder of the night almost every time it happened.

Tonight she found herself free of clients, and decided that she had to get inexplicably drunk to drown her sorrows. She threw on a short green dress, some pumps, and headed for the closest club she could find. She headed straight towards the bar, she could feel the eyes on her_. Potential new clients_? _Yuck_. She didn't want anyone looking at her, buying her, or sizing her up, but her wardrobe didn't consist of many modest pieces and she still wanted to look presentable when in public for some reason. Her mind traced to Finnick and she had to shut the thought down almost immediately. _No_, she didn't care what he thought, and she most certainly was not _his_.

She ordered a scotch on the rocks and from there on out kept them coming. It wasn't like she was going to run out of money – no, the least Snow could do was make sure that she was well paid, fed, and provided with mass amounts of alcohol considering what he was making her do for him. This was on the Capitol's bill.

Her head was dizzy, but it was a welcome feeling. It helped her to close her mind to all of the bad, and instead just let loose. She forgot about the girl from District Eight, she forgot about her family, if only for a night.

She was startled when someone sat down next to her and hugged her close. It was Cashmere, the District One victor from a few years prior. She looked radiant, wearing a pink sequined dress that went to her knees, her hair curled to the side. Once she released Johanna from the hug, she smiled at her so big that Johanna couldn't help but return it. She could be an ice cold bitch sometimes, but she was drunk, and she figured that Cashmere had something in common with her. She was probably one of Snow's little whores, too.

"I've been waiting to meet you since your Victory Tour!" She squealed. "I saw you in One at your party in the Governor's Mansion but never had the opportunity to approach you. You did amazing in your games." Johanna followed up the appraisal with a quick 'thank you' before quickly returning to her drink. "So how long have you been in the Capitol for?"

"About a month, but I've been going back and forth since my Tour."

"Oh no, you too?" She looked so apologetic that Johanna wanted to cry. But she was _strong_, she would carry on this conversation as if it didn't faze her at all.

"Unfortunately. Snow called me back a few months after I got home."

"My brother and I are practically here year round. It's disgusting." Now Cashmere looked like she wanted to cry. The whole thing was awfully depressing. "That's why I find my way through drink on my nights off."

"Exactly what I had in mind." Johanna smiled. She decided that Cashmere wasn't that bad. She had been younger when she won her games, so the time gap had found them around the same age now. It made her relieved to know that she was not alone. Other than Finnick she didn't know any other tributes who were used this way, but now she did. Suddenly the young man she had come to know as Gloss was approaching the pair, a drink in hand.

"Johanna Mason, this is my brother Gloss," Cashmere held her hand out to display her brother. He was attractive, surely. No wonder Snow had kept him around as well. Their life must be awkward, brother and sister getting together to talk about their clients and all… Gloss dodged around his sister and held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Johanna Mason." He was smiling, too. _Were all Careers this nice_? She had always been under the impression that they were trained killers. Devoid of feeling and always nominating themselves so they could win the games and reap the benefits. Maybe she had been wrong. Her thoughts were interrupted by the approach of a fourth party member. They had found their way through the crowd and were now edging themselves in between Johanna and Gloss' hands that were still together in greeting.

"Oh hey, Mason. Gloss." The last word was ground out in what appeared to be anger. It was Finnick. The tension in the air was palpable, and yet neither of the siblings seemed to notice. Finnick was staring daggers into Gloss, who just gazed happily around the club in his drunken aura.

"Odair. I was just meeting this lovely lady." He turned his attention back to Johanna and winked. She smiled in return. Just because Finnick had shown up didn't mean that she was going to be _rude_ to them. She may be a 'pretender' in more than one way, but she genuinely thought that they meant well, and that meant that she wasn't going to pretend to dislike them just for Odair's sake.

"And now you have." Finnick added, shooting a glance towards Johanna. She raised her eyebrows and looked away in annoyance. Whatever had happened or not happened between them, she wasn't holding him to anything, and he shouldn't hold her to anything either. "So, Johanna, how is your evening? Buy you a drink?" He was testing her, to see if she would reject him or accept him. She chose the former.

"I can buy my own drink, thanks." She waved the bartender over. She had a bright purple wig on that was about a foot high, Johanna didn't understand it, and yet she found herself staring at it every few minutes, bewitched by its defying of gravity. Maybe that's why the woman wore it the way she did, for the attention.

"I can get you one," Gloss offered. Great, now he was making this a competition. She felt the sudden urge to accept, just to show Finnick that she _didn't care_.

And so she did. "Yeah okay. Vodka tonic." Gloss nodded and ordered the bartender to put it on his tab, which was undoubtedly going to the exact same place as Johanna's, so the 'buying a drink' scenario was merely a formality. She felt Finnick tense beside her. She decided to try a glance over at him and found him staring across the room at a blank wall. His jaw was clenched, and she looked down to see his fist in a ball on the bar. _Too bad_, she thought. She was gonna get drunk and do what she wanted, even if what she really wanted was him.

_No_! She yelled at herself on the inside, _he is bad for you_.

"But maybe what's bad for you is also good for you." She was hearing the girl from District Eight again. She wasn't sure if she was just going crazy or if the girl was actually with her all the time. _Was she losing her mind_? "No, you aren't. I'm here because you need me." This only further confused Johanna, but she chose to push it aside until she had a clear head.

Her drink came shortly after. She cheered with Cashmere and Gloss, and swallowed the contents. Finnick sat between them silent, still glaring at the wall across from him.

At two in the morning she had decided she had enough. She thanked them for their company and the drinks, and left the club without a second glance at Finnick. Yes, she was being cold. But she had also let him off the hook so easily in the past, and that was over. She would get back to her roots, back to her ball-crushing, bad ass roots where she didn't take shit from anyone. Even beautiful people such as Finnick Odair.

She was walking back to the hotel when she heard foot steps behind her. _Some Capitolian creep_, she was sure of it. She turned around to threaten them and be on her way, but was surprised to find it was Finnick. "What are you doing stalking me through the streets? I thought you were a rapist or something."

"What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?" His voice was cross.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, Odair." She turned back around to keep on walking, and he continued on behind her.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Johanna." He was keeping pace, and she found herself walking faster in response.

"Enlighten me, please."

"You're throwing yourself at other men right in front of me. _Why_? I thought we had established something the other night. I don't want other men touching you." She turned around to face him and lost her footing. He grabbed her wrist before she could face dive into the cement, and pulled her upwards. They were standing close now, and she couldn't have that. She shoved him back a few paces.

"The only thing we _established_ – is that I'm way too easy when it comes to you, and I'm done." She was so hot and cold, she knew she was. One minute she wanted him, the next she was chastising herself over it.

"At least you don't beg me for it like every other woman here." He retorted.

"It isn't like you don't give them a reason to, you've been satisfying their needs for years." He winced, that had to have stung, and it wasn't fair. She decided to give him a further explanation. "You decide when you want me, how you want me, and I just give in. I won't do it anymore. I am a woman of principle, and both times we were together, I was in a certain state of weakness. I'm past that."

"A moment of weakness, care to elaborate?" He raised his eyebrows at her. She didn't feel like giving him that information. She didn't want to tell him about her family, so she turned around and continued walking. He followed once more, tailing her so closely she swore she was going to lose it. "Johanna, what's going on?"

"Snow had my family killed." She didn't know if it was because of the alcohol, or if she just wanted to share with someone other than Ina, but she had completely stopped once more and blurted out the one thing she had held in for weeks. She was staring up into the sky, where she hoped there was a heaven, where she hoped they were now. Painless and carefree.

He didn't respond, so she continued. "You told me not to refuse him. I did anyway. The next day I went home to find my father and my brother dead. You were right, and the next time I saw you was during my 'appointment' with Colombus. The last time we…" She trailed off. She knew he would know what she was implying.

"My god," was all he managed to get out. But he followed the short exclamation up by walking to her side and intertwining her fingers in his. He pulled her to keep her moving, and in a short time they were outside her hotel room. "I'm going to stay with you tonight, and we aren't going to do anything." She nodded and opened the door. He followed her inside and to the bed. She fell asleep with her back to his broad chest, his arm draped over her stomach protectively. There were no tears, though. She had sworn she'd never cry again, and she had meant it.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day she woke up to an empty bed. Where had he gone? She was exhausted, and would've preferred to stay in bed all day wallowing in self-pity, but she knew she couldn't.

She moved to get up and found that she was still in her dress. She didn't remember much from last night, just that she had told Finnick about her family. _Shit_. She had wanted to keep it a secret, to not give Snow the satisfaction. She blamed the alcohol.

She wondered where Finnick had gone to, and found herself getting angry at the fact that he had left her. She always seemed to be pissed off, and even knowing that that was no way to live, she still continued to be pissed each and every day. Usually it was at the Capitol, at Snow. But lately she found a lot of her anger being dispersed in the form of a Finnick induced rage.

She decided that she wouldn't seek him out, wouldn't engage in conversation except when needed. It was just too much drama, and Johanna Mason didn't have time for it.

She began her morning ritual with a shower, following it up by getting ready for the day. Her avox provided her with breakfast and she was out the door soon after, making her way to a public hall.

Haymitch Abernathy approached her from behind just moments after she arrived. She had never met him, but she had seen him at events in the Capitol during her games, and she knew of his story. He had won the 50th Hunger Games, and the second Quarter Quell.

"Hey darlin', think you could spare a minute of your time?" He leered at her. He reeked of alcohol, and it was only ten in the morning. How does someone even manage that?

"Anything for you, Mr. Abernathy," she was curtsying in sarcasm. He was shaking his head, frowning in what seemed like disgust, when he took her arm and began to pull her out of the hall. "What are you doing? Get your hands off of me." A million scenarios were running through her mind. Why the hell was he handling her like this? He dragged her up a flight of stairs that were hidden in a small room. They climbed for what seemed like hours, until they finally reached the top. He opened an adjoining door to a larger room. It was empty, except for a table in the middle that was surrounded by several chairs. She never would've even known that this room existed, had he not just shown her that it clearly did. Was it created for privacy?

"Sorry about that sweetheart, but we needed some seclusion," he winked at her, and she smacked him across the face.

"Seclusion for what exactly?" Her nostrils were flared, her eyes wide. Suddenly the door was opening and a larger man was walking through it. He had a suite on, and blonde hair covered his head. She definitely recognized him, but she couldn't put a face to a name.

"We needed an area that couldn't be bugged, couldn't be watched. We need seclusion because we are planning something a long time coming," now the blonde man was talking, and he was making his way towards the table. He took a seat and gazed up at Haymitch knowingly, nodding to the seat beside him. "So, let's get down to business."

"Johanna Mason, meet Plutarch Heavensbee, he's one of the game makers." He took the seat Heavensbee had been ushering him towards, turned his head, and ushered her to one as well. "Take a seat; we have a proposal for you. But first you need to swear to keep everything we say inside of this room. No one will know that we were here, no one will know what we talked about, is that clear?" Her curiosity must have been getting the best of her, because she found herself moving towards the chair and sitting in it across from the two men.

"But you know what they say, Johanna. Curiosity killed the cat," the girl from Eight was whispering in her ear. Great, now she was going to be having an internal conversation with a ghost as well. No one would know about _that_ conversation, either.

"Alright, you've got my interest. I promise." She held up her hand and offered her pinky to Abernathy in mock.

"Enough of that, little girl. We are going to overthrow the Capitol," Plutarch bluntly stated. Now that was not what she was expecting. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but not that.

"I'm sorry? You work for the Capitol. You probably had a part in trying to get me killed less than a year ago," she spat out. She was glaring at him now; a look that could probably kill a kitten was etched on her face. "Besides, even if you wanted to, you would fail."

"I work for the Capitol, but I despise everything that they stand for. My position here will help us to achieve what you claim is impossible. We will succeed; we just need the right moment, the right weapon to use against them. Until that weapon comes into play, I will continue to work for the Capitol. I will gain insight into their plans, I will influence them, and I will follow all of that up by destroying them and everything that they hold dear."

"And this weapon? What is it? When does it come into play?" Her voice was taking on a slightly higher pitch, betraying her façade. She was interested, and now they knew just how much.

"We aren't sure. We just need something that can influence the Districts to join our cause; we need something that can instill hope where there is none. When it comes, we will know." Now he was sounding crazy. Haymitch just sat beside him quietly, staring at the table.

"So your plan is to wait out your years until something good enough comes along? Let's make one." _What was coming out of her mouth_? If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that she was actually entertaining this idea, even adding to it.

"Like I said, we will know when the time is right; we are just working on recruitment for now. Your name was provided to us as a person of interest, someone who may be willing to jump on board. So let's have it. Are you?" He raised his eyebrows in question.

"Yes."

"Okay then, until next time." He grinned at her and stood from his chair. "I'm a very busy man, so you'll have to excuse me." He did a slight bow and went to exit the room. Haymitch stood as well and began towards the door.

"Who told you to recruit me?" She was still sitting, her back turned to him, but she could tell that he had stopped walking and was still in the room.

"Finnick Odair." And he was gone. She sat in silence for a few minutes more. Finnick had brought her into the fold, and yet he was nowhere to be seen. Why had he done it? Why risk the whole plan by trusting her? She sighed and stood up, turning around and making her way for the door. She was about to open it when it opened itself. She lurched back in surprise, holding her hands out to protect her from whatever – or whoever – was coming through from the other side.

Finnick was walking through, his eyes widening when he saw her. "On your way out?"

"Yes, actually. Excuse me." She went to pass him but he wouldn't move out of the doorway. "Move, Finnick." He remained there, still as a statue. Now she was getting pissed. "Move."

She went to shove him out of the way but her arm had only just made contact with his chest before he snatched it and stopped her. "I'm assuming you joined the cause." His breath smelled like mint against her face. "I mean, if you're smart like I think you are, you did."

"Why did you tell them to talk to me?"

"Because of your family. Normally I wouldn't want to bring you into it – the risk is too great. It puts you in danger being involved. But then you told me about your family, and you deserve revenge. Against Snow, against all of them. It seemed selfish not to include you." His voice was gravelly and raw, he sounded like he was holding something back. A sentence, or an action, she wondered why.

"Okay, well thanks." She went to exit the room again, but he didn't let go of her arm. "Come on, what are you going to do, keep me captive in here? I want to go." _Slap him_, her mind was telling her_. Be the ball-crusher, show him you mean business_. But she didn't, and she hated herself for it. Instead she found herself moving forward until her chest was flush against his. She reached her free hand up into his hair and stared into his eyes for a long moment, before leaning in to kiss him.

It was light, but meaningful. It said 'thank you' in a way that she never could herself. She was truly grateful for what he had done, and she knew no better way to show her gratitude. It only lasted for a few seconds, before she pulled back. He let go of her arm and moved out of the way so she could go, and that was it. She looked up into his eyes one last time to see something like adoration reflecting in them, before she gently brushed by him and descended down the stairs.

That night she lay in bed thinking of all the possibilities that this new development brought. What if they succeeded? What would she do then? Live out her life in pure bliss? She knew that wasn't possible, not after the things that she had seen, the things she had done. The memories she had were a constant reminder of all the bad that had happened, and they were never going away. She somehow knew that the pain, remorse, and anger never would either.

"Good night," the girl from Eight whispered.

"Good night."


	11. Chapter 11

She was released from the Capitol two days later. They were letting her go home until the 72nd Hunger Games. That meant she could go home to her empty house, and relive the memory of finding her dead family over and over again.

Her departure was swift, but she still made sure to say goodbye to Finnick. She stopped at his hotel room on her way out and lightly rapped on the door. He answered within a few seconds, a towel around his waist. She kept her gaze even, however, never letting her eyes wander from his own. She had decided that if they were going to be anything, they were going to be friends. It was the smartest way to go about things, and it would leave things less complicated in the long run. No jealousy, no longing, no pain.

"I wasn't expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Sounding smug as ever.

"I'm leaving the Capitol. I'm going home."

He frowned. "What?"

"Snow has released me of any prior engagements for the time being. I'm not sure why. I'm going back to Seven until the next Games."

"Sounds too good to be true, Johanna." There was caution in his stare.

"There's nothing 'good' about it. The only happy memories I have there are now destroyed by the worst memory of all. The one thing I can take from this is my body." That was true. No one would be touching her or forcing her to go on dates with them, at least for a time.

"I guess that's something we can both be grateful for, but I still don't trust him."

"Of course I don't trust him, don't take me for a fool. Give me a little bit of credit," she snapped. "But if I have a chance to get out of this hell hole, I'm going to take it. I just wanted to say goodbye before I did. So, bye."

He went to embrace her, and she allowed it. That's what friends do, right? Hug? She felt electricity shooting through her entire body, but willed it away. This man was her friend, that was it. She abruptly ended the exchange by leaning out of his arms, and he released her. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too, bud." There was a small smile spreading across her face. He had one too.

"Bud," he repeated sadly, walking backwards into his room and shutting the door.

She got on the train a half an hour later and was home by nightfall. She trudged through the snow that had developed at some point while she had been away and made it to her house. Opening the front door, a stream of emotion engulfed her. It was not unknown, she had felt this sadness before, and she had given into it. Many times in fact, had she felt this dread and fell to the ground in tears. But not this time. She had sworn off that display of emotion and she had meant it. She continued through the doorway and made it to her room, took a deep breath, and began to unpack.

"They are here too, you know." The girl from Eight was whispering.

"I figured as much. Why do you keep following me?"

"You need me."

"I do not. And even if I did, I killed you. Why would you care?" She was loading her clothes back into her dresser.

"You didn't kill me. They did." She knew what the girl meant when she said _they_. The Capitol. Snow. They killed her by forcing her into that arena, but Johanna still felt a pain of guilt every time she remembered lobbing the girl's head off with her axe. She winced as she remembered it now.

"I killed you, and now I've paid the price in full. With my family's lives. Now go away, I don't want to be haunted any longer." There was no response. Her request had been accepted.

Johanna went to sleep that night and found herself in a restless dream within minutes. She was on a stairway, making her way up to a large room at the top. Once there, she opened the door that enclosed it and screamed in terror. There they were, heads. Three heads, actually.

On the left was Plutarch's. It was sitting on a table against the wall, blood dripping from his mouth.

In the middle was Haymitch, on an identical table, in an identical position. But his eyes were closed as well as his mouth.

And there, on the right, on the last table… Finnick.

His hair was disheveled and bloody, his usually strong jaw was weak and taut, and his eyes were staring back at her, blank and lifeless. She screamed again and fell to her knees. She was having trouble breathing, and her air was coming out in hushed sobs, but true to her promise, there were no tears.

She shot up in bed, face pale, covered in sweat. Surely that had been a glimpse into the future. They would be discovered in their plot, and they would be executed. She made it to her bathroom in time to make it to the toilet before throwing up her entire dinner.

Once her stomach was completely empty, she leaned back on her heels and sighed. There would be no dissuading her comrades, they were intent in their plan. If she went to them and told them of her dream, they would laugh in her face and call her a silly little girl. That meant that she had to make a decision, and the decision would be for herself alone.

To stay, and risk it all. Or to make a swift exit from their little group and be done with it, going about her business whoring it up in the Capitol for the rest of her days. The answer was obvious.

She would die before she would give in to Snow willingly. She was still in.

Over the next couple months, she spent all of her time with Ina. Cooking, cleaning, helping out throughout the District; and at night she would go home and have conversations with her dead friend. It was all becoming familiar and comfortable when one day she woke up and realized it was Reaping Day.

She put on a white dress with sleeves that ran down the length of her arms, walked to Ina's house and then Blights, and continued to the square with the pair. Her hair was done in a braid to the side, running along her body almost all the way to her hip. Her makeup was dark and smoky, representing her mood. _These poor children_.

She made her way up onto the stage and took a seat between her old mentors. Hermila, the woman who would draw the names and escort the Tributes through the Capitol for the following months, exited the main doors of the Governor's Mansion and clambered forward to the microphone. "Welcome, welcome! To the Reaping for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. May these games once more remind us of the power of the great Capitol of Panem, and of what happened during the great Uprising. I will be drawing the name for our young lady first, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" Johanna scoffed. It was disgusting.

Hermila strutted over to the bowl on her left side and stuck her hand inside. After teasing the crowd for a moment, her hand hovering over the contents, she found a piece of paper and pulled it out. She returned to the microphone, opened the paper, and read the name. "Lelya Green!" A girl about fifteen years old slowly found her way out of the crowd. She was blonde and short, but her figure was proof that she was older than her height portrayed her to be. She edged her way up the stairs and made her way next to Hermila. The crowd was silent, but Hermila was smiling so big Johanna thought her head might explode from the pressure. _If only_.

"Now for the boys!" She walked towards the other bowl, found a piece of paper, and came to the microphone, reading the name clearly so as not to be mistaken. "Jeremiah Ingham!" A broad, strong young man edged his way out of the crowd and climbed up the stairs. He had short, dark hair, a strong jaw, and dark green eyes. He had to have been about eighteen. Poor kid, almost makes it out, only to be pulled back in at the last minute. He and Lelya stood on either side of Hermila as she took their hands and raised them high in the air, "Ladies and Gentlemen, your District Seven Tributes for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!" The crowd was slow to respond, but eventually they were cheering. The trio made their way into the building, and Johanna followed with Blight and Ina. Within forty-eight hours they would be back in the Capitol, and she would be training these children how to kill.


	12. Chapter 12

They didn't discuss much on the train, just exchanged niceties and silently ate their lunch. Lelya and Jeremiah had been quiet from the beginning, so Johanna decided not to prod them, for now. They needed time to adjust and accept what had happened to them, she got it.

So she gave them time, knowing that in less than a day they would have to begin physical training. She would do anything in her power to bring one of them home. It wasn't unheard of, a District having a victor two years in a row. Gloss and Cashmere had proved that when they won back to back years. She was also determined to give them both the same amount of training, just different _types_ of training depending on their certain skills.

She hated when mentors favored one of their tributes over the other, automatically deciding which one they would put more effort into. They generally chose the strong one, and went about their business getting their prime tribute the sponsors they would need in the Game, completely setting the other tribute aside to wither and die.

"Do either of you have any specific skills?" Ina had apparently had it with the silence, and was getting down to business.

"I crochet. I can make hats and scarves and pretty much anything given the proper amount of time. I used to sell them back in the District," Lelya smiled. She was proud of the work she had done for her and her people. And while crocheting could help a struggling family survive in the cold hours of the night, it sadly wouldn't do her much good against twenty three armed opponents who were out for her blood.

Twenty-two, if Jeremiah decided to help her throughout the Games. He was much larger, and much more capable in combat, at least at this point. And it was clear.

"We could teach you how to tie knots. The fact that you're skilled in crocheting may prove that you are quite capable with them, as well as trapping. We should start there with you, dear." Ina was already creating a game-play for the girl, and Johanna felt a large weight come off of her shoulders.

Yes. They would be there helping as well. Ina and Blight. They would help her turn these two adolescents into killers; they would teach them how to win. And Ina was already forming ties with the girl.

Johanna turned her attention to Jeremiah. "What about you? Anything you can use against your opponents?"

"I'm good with an axe," he admitted, his eyes cast down. "Been training since I was five, it's probably all I've got going for me. I need to get an axe in that arena or I am going to die."

"There will be plenty of weapons in the cornucopia. There will most likely be an axe in there, and if not, you're just gonna have to make do with what you've got. A sword, a spear, anything that can kill. I will train you until I feel that you can beat me. Until I feel that you can win. Because right now all I can see is a scared little boy who has already accepted defeat." She let those words sink in and made her way to her bedroom. She climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come, secretly wishing that Finnick were there to hold her until it did.

She wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but the next thing she knew she was waking up to a knock on the door followed by a mild shriek. "Johanna Mason! It is 11:00 AM; time to get to work!" It was Hermila. She had woken the two tributes as well. And apparently Blight and Ina, considering that they were now sitting at the table in their robes looking cranky and exhausted. "We'll be in the Capitol by nightfall, so everyone prepare yourselves; from here on out, things will change. Other tributes will be sizing you up, trying to figure out just how much of a threat you really are. You will be given your own rooms that will join in a small apartment; Johanna will be just across the hall. Ina and Blight will have rooms adjacent to your own, so whenever you need to reach any of your mentors you do not need to look far. There is plenty of food and drink, and the training center will be open twenty-four hours a day, so feel free to train whenever you desire."

"Good to know," Jeremiah grinned. Hermila led them into the Capitol and each to their individual rooms, then departing to her own. Johanna showered and dressed, exiting her room to cross over to the tributes' afterwards. They were sitting across from one another eating lunch when she entered.

"So, you guys ready to go to the training center?" She sat down next to Lelya and took a bite of the french bread that was in front of her.

"No," they said in unison.

"Well that's too bad, because we are heading straight there as soon as you're finished eating. Get dressed in your training suites that the Capitol provided." And so they did. She led them down the many hallways until they found themselves outside of the center. She found herself feeling extremely anxious being near it, she hadn't been inside since last year, with all of the people she had been with in her own arena. She pushed her feelings aside and strode between the doors, the two following closely at her heels.

Most of the other tributes were already inside and at stations of their choosing. Some of them had their mentors with them, and some of them were alone. She led her own to the snare and knot station and set them to work before making a round and observing the competition. She was halfway around the large room before she felt a callused hand around her forearm. She abruptly turned around to find Finnick staring at her.

"Long time no see. You're a sight for sore eyes, Mason." He grinned.

"Back at ya," she grinned back.

"Saw your District's reaping, your boy looks tough." He released her arm and turned his head to look over at her tributes. Her eyes followed the path of his and they both stared at Jeremiah and Lelya from across the center.

"He is, he just doesn't know it yet. Can't say I saw yours though."

"They're over there. Mags thinks we have a winner this year. The boy, Xane." He pointed over to the spearing station towards a young girl who looked to be about thirteen. Her hair was jet black and she had a small button nose. She was standing next to a tall boy with blonde hair, his body was lean like a swimmer's and he was throwing the spear towards a moving target. It made contact with its head, resulting in the girl clapping him on the back, a wide grin spread across her face.

"He looks like you," Johanna heard herself saying.

"She looks like you," he responded. She looked up into his sea-green eyes and saw sincerity. She hadn't noticed the resemblance between herself and the young girl, but looking back at the pair from District Four, she saw it now. The two were now hugging, and it made a blush creep up her neck. She knew why, it was because it reminded her of herself and Finnick, and it made her uncomfortable.

"How have you been?" It had been a couple of months since she had seen him, and she was concerned given what the President had him doing.

"I'm getting by. Day by day. How are you?"

"I was good. Not so much now that I'm back here." She knew the minute the words were out of her mouth that he would take it the wrong way, and he did. That had always been their problem. _Communication_. A look of pain and offense shot across his face as her words registered. He thought she wasn't happy to see him. "You know what I mean, Finnick."

"Yeah – yeah I do." But he clearly didn't. He was taking it personal, even after she had reassured him that it was clearly not about him. Now she was getting irritated.

"You and I both know what this is really about, why I'm not happy to be back. Don't make this about you. Don't make this about us."

"But there never really was an 'us,' was there Johanna?" He was glaring at her now. What did he expect her to say? They were friends; that was all they could ever be. Snow would see to that.

So she decided to say as much. "We are friends – good friends. Don't throw that away."

He was still glaring at her, but he nodded his head and said "I won't. See you around," and then he was walking away, back to his tributes. She was left standing alone in the center of the room, feeling confused and helpless. Turning to see her own tributes, she saw that they were talking to the kids from District Three. _Nuts and Volts' kids_, she realized; _they could choose worse allies_.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you to all of you who have went out of your way to follow, favorite and review! Reading back through the chapters I have noticed lots of little details that were contradicted, and I apologize. If I could edit them I would! I'm trying to put more Johanna/Finnick in here, but I do have a long time span that I am working with so it's difficult to try and come up with new things for them to bicker about. I'm making an effort not to repeat the same thing over and over again! Anyway, thanks again everyone! :D

They were in the secret room, all called in by Heavensbee for a meeting. Johanna was surprised to see that Nuts and Volts were present; as well as Vael and Josephine from District Five, more commonly known as 'the morphlings' for their habitual use of the drug. _Whatever helps them sleep at night_. She understood their dependence on an escape from the real world, given that the real world was so _cruel_. Plutarch had certainly been recruiting, and with each day their number grew.

"I just wanted everyone to be aware of who is involved thus far. You can rely on each other, I have seen to it. Everyone here is trustworthy, and everyone here is devoted to our cause." She yawned noisily, drawing him to a halt. "How completely expected of you, Ms. Mason." She glared in response and decided not to interrupt him again.

"How about this weapon that you talked about?" Beetee didn't seem to have the same issue. "How long do you expect us all to wait? We should build something, I could draw up a few recommendations if you'd like."

"I've already tried to get them to build something, Volts. They aren't budging. Heavensbee is convinced that something will 'come along in time,'" She held up both hands and emphasized the last part with her index and middle finger.

"That I am, and it certainly will. Patience is a virtue, children." Plutarch was smiling now. "We will not be creating any weapon, because we won't need to. It will come to us."

"And you don't know what it is?" Finnick broke his own silence, edging out of the corner of the room that he had been isolating himself in.

"Not yet, I don't. But I will when I see it."

"You're insane, Heavensbee." Johanna rolled her eyes as she said it.

"Maybe it takes a certain level of insanity to see this through. But in my humble opinion, every insane person is also a little bit of a genius." He grinned at her. "This, like every other meeting, must be cut short. Just stay focused, and stay patient. In the end you will be glad that you did." He got up from his chair and exited the room. Everyone else seemed to follow; Haymitch, Wiress, Beetee, the whole lot of them stood and left without another word. Several moments passed and once she was almost certain that they had all left, she laid her arm on the table and her head on top of it. She was tired, and the trek down the stairs sounded like death itself. So she would just sit there for a few minutes until she felt determined enough to move. She closed her eyes and listened to the silence, which was abruptly interrupted when she heard a loud 'ahem,' breaking it.

Her head shot up and around to see Finnick standing in the doorway. _Why did he insist on hanging back and bothering her every time she saw him_?

"What do you want?" She snapped. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Just wondering why you've decided to take a nap on the table," he grinned. "Honestly, Johanna, don't be so lazy. You could at least make it back to your room first."

"I could, if you want to carry me there."

"I could, if you want me to." He was serious. She knew he was serious because of the way that his eyebrows shot down, and by the serious look he was now giving her in place of the grin that he had plastered on it moments before.

"No, I don't want you to." She shut it down immediately, because A.) Johanna Mason was _not_ lazy. And B.) It could very possibly send him the wrong message. She was not reliant on him for anything, and she would make sure he knew that. "You can walk me back, though." He nodded in response and walked towards her, his hand extended. She took it and stood, following him as he exited the room and descending down the many flights of stairs.

"How are your tributes doing? I haven't seen you since that day in the training center." Now he was stating the obvious just to create conversation between them. She chose not to point it out.

"They don't sleep well, and quite frankly neither do I." They were walking adjacent to each other now, their shoulders almost touching. She hated that every time she was around him she always had to make note of how close they were.

"At least they aren't sleeping together, like I highly suspect mine are."

She scoffed. "Isn't your girl like thirteen?!"

"Fifteen, and very aware of how short her life is going to be now that she has been Reaped."

"So you've chosen then, a favorite. That's _disgusting_." He was one of them, the mentors who picked a favorite and chose to put 110% effort into them, and very little into the other.

"Yes, I have. There's no way she's getting out of there alive, and we all know it. She may look like you, Johanna, but she does not have your skills or your drive."

"And he may look like you, Finnick, but that doesn't mean that he is as skilled as you seem to think," she had stopped walking and was now glaring at him from the step above him. They were equal in height now, and she could see directly into his eyes. It made her feel powerful. "You're an ass."

"I am a realist, and you are deluded if you think that that poor girl stands a chance. I'm still going to tell her she does, and I'm still going to make sure she at least enjoys the last days of her life."

"You probably didn't think Annie stood a chance when she won," she shot back. "A small, timid girl who won because she can swim. Anything can happen in that arena."

"No actually, I knew she could win. Because while she is small and timid, she is also determined. You on the other hand – I didn't think you could do it."

"Well you didn't know me, and quite frankly you still don't." She was moving again, shoving past him on the stairs and continuing her way down them.

"I think I know you quite well, actually. You are afraid." That stopped her once more. _Damn him_.

"And what am I afraid of, exactly?" She rounded on him.

"You're afraid of me."

That got her attention. She was certainly not afraid of him, she knew he would never hurt her. So what did he mean? "You're as insane as Heavensbee if you think that I'm afraid of you."

"You're afraid of wanting me," he continued. "You're afraid of acting on your feelings, because you think you're going to get hurt. You're afraid of Snow finding out, and you're afraid of him hurting you, even though you know that he can't do anything more than he's already done."

"He is the President of this great nation, Odair. He can do far more than he's already done."

"Yes – but not to you. He has already taken away everything that you hold dear." They were on the same step now, he had been inching towards her as he spoke, and now he has towering over her just as he always did. She wanted nothing more than to take a step up so that she could even the playing field again, to feel a sense of power as she had before. But she resisted the urge and stared back into his green eyes.

And in a sudden moment of vulnerability, she decided to tell him the truth.

"He hasn't taken away everything I hold dear," yes, she had said it. And as soon as she had she instantly regretted it.

He shifted towards her, bringing his hand up behind her head and ensnaring it in her hair. She felt her whole body go rigid in anticipation. His other hand had found its way to her hip, and he was slowly bringing her in to close the distance between them. His forehead rested against her own, and he closed his eyes. She closed hers. And they sat like that, listening to each other's breathing, for several moments before he moved in to kiss her.

Her hand went to his chest, and she pushed him away right before their mouths connected.

"We can't," she heard herself saying.

"We can," he insisted. His hands were still on her, and she could feel his eyes on her. She just stared at their feet, looking for any excuse to pull away from him. She didn't want to have this connection with him – or anyone. It was too painful. She kept thinking back to her dream, of his head on top of the table in their secret room. That was what she saw coming, and if she let herself get too close to him, it would make the loss that much harder.

Her mind was made up.

"No, Finnick. We can't." She edged out of his touch and folded herself in her own arms, looking reserved. If she decided she couldn't have his hands on her, she would be damned if she couldn't comfort herself with her own. She turned her back to him and stared at the wall.

"Because of Snow," he ground out between clenched teeth. _Why was he so angry_?

"No, because of me."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense at all, Johanna. Because I know you feel the same way I do." His anger was palpable, and she didn't understand where it was coming from.

"I'm a fucked up person, so this shouldn't come as a huge surprise." She turned back towards him and looked him in the eye. "I cannot be with anyone that way, not right now. Even _if_ I want to, I can't. I am a damaged individual with fucked up dreams, fucked up thoughts, and fucked up emotions."

"So is every person who goes into that arena and makes it out alive, you think you're the only one?!" Now he was screaming at her.

"I talk to dead people!" She yelled back. They were standing so close that she was certain he could feel her breath on his face. "To fucking dead people! I am _off my rocker_, and if we were to be anything other than friends and have it blow up in our face, I wouldn't have you anymore!"

"Of course you would," his voice was calmer now. It must have been because she was insane, and he was afraid she would throw him down the stairs or something, she was sure of it. "And it wouldn't blow up in our face, so that's something you'd never have to worry about."

"Yeah? Well I can't be with someone and watch them die, like my family did. It's better if I just remain alone, solitary. Where no one can hurt me."

"If you did that, you would be hurting yourself." He bluntly stated. "You think your family wants you to be alone? To never love anyone ever again?" He had a good point. She knew that her father – wherever he was, would be rolling over in his grave if he could hear the way she was talking now.

She slowly inched down another step and turned around so she could walk away. It was _draining_, being honest with people; and she had had enough of it for one day. She heard him move to follow her, but ignored it.

They made their way onto a platform between sets of stairs, and he reached out and grabbed her forearm. He shoved her against the wall and moved his hand to her waist, it all happened so quickly she didn't have a chance to stop him. He moved his other hand in her hair, and pulled her lips to his own.

It was rough. Demanding. He was kissing her like he never had before – like his very life depended on it. He shoved his tongue inside of her mouth and proceeded to bite down on her lip. She responded to him with enthusiasm, putting as much into it as he seemingly was.

And far too soon, he pulled away. He was breathing heavy, and looking her in the eye. "That is why you will never truly choose to be alone. You're running away from this, but maybe it's time you faced it head on and just accepted it." He let go of her and walked away, down the next flight of stairs, and the next, and the next…

She listened to his footfalls until she knew he was gone, and then she slinked her way down the wall and sat on the hard cement floor. She decided she would remain there until she got the energy and determination to conquer the rest of the stairs.


	14. Chapter 14

Two weeks later, Jeremiah and Lelya had their interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Johanna watched as the tributes from District One to District Six introduced themselves from a plush couch in the dressing room of her girl, Lelya.

The two kids from One appeared to be ready and were as formal as possible_; well trained, Cashmere & Gloss_, Johanna thought. If any District could win over the idiots from the Capitol is would be One or Two. The Careers always seemed to have a certain charm about them, and the mentors were making sure that their tributes used it to their full advantage.

The District Two pair was similar. Their names were Havanna and Leo, though Johanna knew she would forget them quickly. If they weren't related to a mentor she knew, what business did she have memorizing their names?

Three was constructed of a large African-American male, probably around seventeen. His partner was a young red head, likely fourteen or fifteen if Johanna was forced to decide. They had practiced with her tributes, so she was hoping that they could find a way through the fold and into the hearts of Panem.

District Four were Finnick's kids. The young brunette who resembled Johanna was wearing a dark green dress that looked eerily the same as the dress she had worn to the Presidential Palace on her own victory tour. The young blonde man wore a suite, and they both opened up to Caesar about how driven they were to protect one another, how determined they were to see the other through. The crowd was touched, and Johanna wanted to throw up. She wasn't like them, she wasn't open with her feelings, she didn't feel compassion, and she sure as hell didn't feel a certain way about a certain blonde who just happened to be training them. _They may love each other_, she thought, _but Finnick and I are not them_.

Five and Six were less than noteworthy. They not only appeared, but were basically described as weak in both of their interviews.

"What are you particularly skilled at, my lady?" Caesar was asking the girl from Six. He was building her up to seem invincible, but she couldn't catch on and stumbled through her words.

"I – I am rather good with a sword," the audience laughed. Whether they were laughing at her in general or at her nervousness, Johanna would never know.

The interviews ended with Caesar picking apart the last pair. They were a small couple from the wasteland known as District Twelve, and they were both around the age of fourteen. Johanna knew what it felt like now, to know that someone would lose. She put herself in Finnick's position and somehow understood how he was so willing to set his girl aside in order to save his boy. _It was obvious when someone couldn't win_. And these two certainly couldn't.

After the interviews, the mentors were invited to a 'party' where they could indulge themselves in all of the spectacular offers that the Capitol held, only with one another. That meant that the bar was open, as well as the buffet among other delicacies. After all, wasn't that what they had earned? A life in luxury, a life in _peace_.

She knew right away that she would be heading to the bar, and so she did. It was crowded, apparently not only mentors had been invited, but also Captolian guests who were interested in mingling with them. That meant that fat men and women were waddling around the ballroom, drinks in hand, looking for the next victor that they could torment.

Johanna was wearing a red dress tonight, it went down to her ankles but fit tightly to her body, cinching along every curve of her figure. She had flats and a necklace on, both the color of black, and was leaning against the bar when a familiar hand came up and encircled her around the waist.

It was strong, and specific, but it was Colombus, not Finnick. She felt slightly disappointed, but turned her attention to him regardless.

"Colombus, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Her voice was itching with sarcasm, but he didn't seem to notice.

"You look lovely this evening, Ms. Mason. Simply _ravishing_." He purred out the last word, and she felt her stomach turn in disgust.

"Thank you, Colombus. Who are you betting on this year?"

"Whoever you are betting on, of course," he was grinning at her now, with a half-smile and the eyes of a snake, it reminded her of Snow.

But no, Snow was Snow. He was not some attractive man with what appeared to be a heart of gold. This was Colombus, a man who had not pressured her into sex with him after paying for the _pleasure_ of her company with tender and gold.

"Well obviously, my kids." She smiled in return. He wrapped both of his arms around her waist and leaned his head in to sniff her.

"Then your kids it is," he pulled back, grinning. "Buy you a drink?"

"Of course. Something strong, preferably." Colombus ordered four shots of tequila from the bartender, two for himself, and two for Johanna. They cheered and drank, and within a half an hour she was happily intoxicated. Looking around the room, she spotted several of her fellow victors. Cashmere and Gloss were both there, both looking glamorous as always. Haymitch had even decided to make an appearance, stumbling around the dance floor alone, bottle in hand. _But where was Finnick_? She chastised herself for the thought, but couldn't help looking around the hall in the thralls of people for him. It took her several minutes, but she eventually spotted him.

Leaning against a high-round table at the edge of the dance floor, he was smiling and laughing with some Captolian bimbo. She was colorful and overdone like all the rest, but she had a figure that could kill, and a smile that could please; and clearly she had said something absolutely _hilarious_, because Finnick was practically rolling over himself in laughter.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the last conversation that they had had, but Johanna found herself being able to finally identify what she was feeling as jealousy. She didn't want to be with him, but she didn't want anyone else to be with him, either. The thought pissed her off, and she suddenly felt the urge to go up to the woman with the great body and show her just why she was the victor of the 71st Hunger Games. _Where's my axe_?

Then she was laughing at herself, how preposterous. _That would be murder_! She ordered two more shots of tequila and decided to even the playing field. "My dear Colombus, care for a dance?"

"Of course, Ms. Mason. Lead on," he happily replied. She grabbed his hand and led him the short distance to the dance floor. Turning her back to him, she found her place in front of him, her ass meeting his groin. She began to grind on him, dancing as dirty as she could possibly get away with in public. There were eyes on her, she could feel them. _Good_, she thought. _Let them watch_.

Colombus grabbed her waist and turned her around to face him. They continued to move to the up-beat tempo, though slowly and sensually. She almost felt bad, using this kind man to ignite jealousy in her would-be lover. At the thought, she took a look around the hall. Haymitch was to her left, oblivious to everything around him. He was gazing at the ceiling, yelling and singing, stopping every now and then to take a swig of his drink. Cashmere and Gloss were both being hounded by Captolians who were more than likely trying to purchase them for the night. But Finnick – Finnick was looking straight at her. Jaw clenched, a disgusted frown plastered on his face, hand tightly holding onto his drink. She quickly continued her gaze around the room, not wanting him to know her play.

Her head began to swim a little too much, and she was far too aware of the growing hardness between Colombus' legs, so she decided to ask for a moment so she could go to the ladies room. He frowned slightly, then released her. She went to the restroom, drank some water out of the faucet, and straightened herself out before going back out into the hallway that connected the bar area to the bathrooms. Colombus was standing there, leaning on a wall, waiting for her. "How nice of you to wait for me, Colombus," she began. But then he was on her, his mouth on hers, his hands on her hips, shoving her against the wall. It all happened so quickly, but she knew she didn't want this. She took both of her palms and shoved him back. "Colombus, wait –" He shoved her back against the wall and began to assault her mouth once more. Her eyes stayed open, not closing once. She decided to try to dissuade him once more. "Please, stop." It was to no avail, there was something feral in his eyes. _Hunger_. She was attempting to push him off now, because damn it if Johanna Mason was some patsy to be used by delusional men whenever they wanted her, but still he refused to budge.

Suddenly he was being forced backwards. She looked straight ahead to see Finnick, grasping Colombus in a choke hold, restricting his air supply. She didn't see hunger in his eyes, only _anger_. He held onto the assailant's throat until he passed out, and he dropped him to the ground. "Now he won't know who attacked him, he never saw me," he smirked. This was no happy smirk, though. The anger in his tone was unmistakable. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, I could've handled it."

"You were doing a great job, yeah." He grabbed her arm and began to pull her out of the hall. She let him because he _had_ just done her a solid, but she began to protest once they had made their way back to the hotel.

"Let me go, Finnick. I can make it to my room on my own."

"I'm not so sure that you can, flaunting yourself about the way you do. Letting anyone touch you like that," he ground out between clenched teeth as they made their way onto the elevator.

"You're one to talk," she whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

"You were with a random woman tonight, too. So don't go acting all high and mighty, you are nothing more than a hypocritical little boy." She spat at him. The elevator doors opened and he was leading her down the hallway towards her room. Once they reached it, he halted his march and held her there in place.

"Why would you care anyway, Johanna?"

"I don't know why – maybe because we are such good friends." He guffawed at that.

"Still denying it, huh?"

"I'm not denying anything. I'm perfectly willing to admit that I don't want you with other people. But I'm also willing to admit that I don't want you with me, either." There it was. She had said it. She was sure he would be happy about one of those admissions, but she was also sure that he would be unhappy about one of them. Relationships were too complicated, especially given the situation that they were in. Snow watching their every move, always having to see children they know be killed…

Serious relationships led to marriage, and marriage led to children. She would not have children – not in this world.

"So that's it? Just friends?" He sounded disappointed, and strained. She could literally hear him holding something back.

"We could be friends, with benefits." There she went again. _It had to be the alcohol_! Just saying everything that came to mind – it wasn't a good way to end her night.

"That's comical, Johanna, even for you." Ah, hell. She had come this far. _Might as well go the distance_.

And so she did. She moved forward and closed the distance between them, her hand going into his blonde hair and pulling his head forward to meet hers, lips crashing against each other in a rough kiss. He responded immediately, tongue delving into her mouth, tasting her and feeling her. She went weak in the knees, and he wrapped his arms around her. She held out her free hand and opened her hotel room door, slowly walking backwards and into the doorway, never parting her lips from his. Once they were through the doorframe, he took both hands and lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He slammed the door shut with his foot.


	15. Chapter 15

She woke the next morning to find Finnick was still in her bed. Her back was to his chest, and his arm was draped protectively over her abdomen. She could hear his light breathing in her ear, and as he exhaled she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck. It made her shiver.

Apparently he noticed.

"Hey," he whispered in her ear. His voice was rough from sleep. She turned around to face him, his arm being displaced and moving to her hip. They were both still unclothed, his hair was messy and she could bet that hers was too.

"Hey," she whispered back. He smiled. She smiled in return.

"The Games start today." _Shit_. She had forgotten. Lelya and Jeremiah were going in today, and she was likely not going to see either of them ever again once she said goodbye. Her smile faded away and she closed her eyes, trying to block out the world around her. He moved the hand from her hip to her cheek, slowly caressing it. "It's going to be okay."

"No, it's really not. And please avoid the morning pleasantries. This is simple and uncomplicated. Which means that I can use you for your body – and feed my sexual appetite with someone I actually like – without the emotional attachments." She rolled out of the bed and walked to the same mirror she had after the first time they had slept together. She turned to look at him only to find he was watching her. "Still friends though, right?"

"If I have to," he smiled, a small laugh breaking out. _Good_. He was finally accepting her reservations, and hopefully he understood why, too. There was clearly some kind of _magnetic force_ between them, but it was sexual. There was no need to make it anything more than that.

She went into the bathroom and after waiting a minute for the water to heat up, she jumped in the shower. They were going in today, and they were never coming out. She felt like crying, but she didn't. She let the water wash down on her face and it soothed her desire to break down. The room was so foggy with steam that she didn't even notice that Finnick had entered until he was opening up the shower door. The showers in the Capitol were _amazing_. So much room to move around – so many different settings. She turned around and walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss him lightly on the lips. His arms encircled her waist, and he pushed them backwards under one of the many shower heads. They held each other, looking into each other's eyes, and if it were any other pair doing this in a sappy movie, Johanna would scoff at just how cheesy it was. But she allowed the emotional moment to occur, knowing that it would turn into something more very, _very_ shortly.

Sure enough, it did. Finnick's primal instincts took over – as they always did – and he was shoving her against the wall of the shower and slamming his mouth down on hers. This wasn't the light kiss they had moments before, this was rough and demanding, and she loved it. She opened her mouth for him and moaned when his tongue made its way inside. He bit down on her lip and she scratched his back. His right hand went down between her legs and found the area she had been hoping it would, her head fell back, a light sigh escaping her mouth. His mouth moved to her neck, at first lightly sucking and then biting with more force than was necessary.

Her hands moved into his hair, and she tugged it until he released her neck from his jaws-like grip. He looked her in the eye questioningly before she moved her mouth to where his jaw met his neck, biting down hard and drawing blood. He wanted to bring pain into this, she was willing to oblige. His hand stilled for a moment where it had been massaging her, then he removed it completely and grabbed her thighs, picking her up and pressing her harder against the wall. He ground against her roughly, his hardness right where it should be. He growled against her neck, and moved forward again. One of his hands was on the small of her back, the other holding her up. The water was pouring down on them, and she couldn't help but wonder if it would ever get cold. _I hope not_, she thought, _can't have him going limp on me_.

The thought of it made her decide it was time to quit fucking around – and get to the actual fucking. She was ready – more than ready – and this much foreplay was for loving couples, which they weren't.

"Finnick, _now_." She ordered. He raised his head to look at her, and she nodded her head to confirm what she had said. He didn't hesitate, taking his length and shoving inside of her. She moaned loudly in response, and he held onto her more tightly than he had been before. He waited a few moments before moving in an out, and then again and again until it became a practiced rhythm. She was surprised that every time they did this, it only became more interesting. She had never been with someone this many times. There had been the boy back in Seven who had been her first, but that was it. It was a one-time thing that happened after he had broken into his parent's liquor cabinet, and they had never spoken again.

After that there had been random people from school who she had known for years, but she had never been with any of them more than once. She wouldn't identify herself as _slutty_, she just wasn't interested in a relationship.

Finnick was increasing the pace, and she was getting close. She didn't need his hand down at her sensitive spot, his torso was doing a perfectly good job making contact with it in the position they were currently in. She could tell from his increased tempo that he was close, too. She sighed his name to encourage him, and he went impossibly faster. A few moments later, she was coming apart, roughly scratching his back and moaning his name. He was close to follow, gripping her hip tightly and biting down on her neck again as he came down from his high.

He didn't release her, just held her in place, still inside of her, for several moments, his head in the crook of her neck, his breath tickling her skin the way it had when she had first woken up.

When he set her down, they wordlessly moved closer under the water and proceeded to finish their shower. Shampooing, conditioning, and cleaning every crack and crevasse.

When they were done she wrapped herself in a towel and went to blow-dry her hair. He came up behind her and kissed the back of her head, then left the room. They couldn't get ready together or be seen leaving the same hotel room or people would begin to talk, besides – he had to be with his tributes – he likely wouldn't be seeing them again, either.

Once she was ready she crossed the hallway to the tribute's suite to find that Ina and Blight were both there already talking to the kids. They were dressed in their arena suites, and both were green in the face. Johanna walked up and joined the conversation.

"Remember kids, get to the cornucopia as fast as you can. If it looks like the Careers are going to beat you, or if they are already there, then find shelter and avoid it until they are gone. Then go and pick your weapons and supplies from what is left," Ina was saying. Blight just nodded.

"You guys can do this. You've been training for this, and you have survival instincts," Johanna was talking out of her ass, and she wondered if they could tell. They had trained, surely, but neither proved to be exceptional at anything. Jeremiah was good with an axe as he had said before, but if he didn't get one, he was pretty much screwed. Lelya could tie knots, but in order to trap anything she had to be good at camouflage, as well; and she wasn't.

"I just wanted to say thank you to you all, and that it was an honor to meet you," Lelya was saying. _Honor_? What honor? They had all become famous victors by killing people. They didn't deserve her appraisal or her admiration. She decided not to mention it, though.

"Yeah, thanks." Jeremiah followed. He was quiet, he always had been.

"If you see our families back in Seven, tell them we love them," Lelya finished. And then she was exchanging hugs with everyone, and Johanna saw red. _Fuck Snow_. Sending this kind-hearted girl to her death. She wanted to walk through that ugly red door and put an axe in his skull.

A few minutes later, they were escorted away by Peacekeepers. Their stylists would see them off, as they always did. Now all she could do was watch them die on the big screen.

Ina, Blight, and herself found their way to a large viewing center where the majority of the mentors watched the games together. She went and ordered a drink from the barkeep – if she had to guess she was likely going to be drunk for the next week or so. Finnick entered shortly after her much needed alcohol arrived, followed by Mags and another male who had won about twenty years ago. He glanced over at her and their eyes made contact. He looked sad, as well, and went to the bar just as she had. Once he got his drink he found his way over to her and sat down in the seat next to hers. They were friends, most of the people in the Capitol knew that. They were allowed to be seen in public together.

"Are you okay?" He asked. She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to let him see her weakness.

"I'm fine." He nodded, seemingly accepting her response, and looked ahead at the screen where Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith were discussing before-game expectations. Mags and Ina joined them shortly after, both sitting on Finnick's side of the table. The two were old friends, considering they were two of the oldest victors alive today. They were engrossed in their own conversation – how Ina managed to understand the other elderly woman was a mystery to Johanna. Finnick seemed to be able to as well, but when she tried to talk to the woman all she heard was jumbled sounds.

She and Finnick sat in silence for the next half an hour until the screen changed to a view of the arena. She held her breath as the tributes were lifted up on their metal plates. Once they were all the way up she could make out a few of them. She saw Lelya, and she could see Finnick's kids as well. They were staring at each other from across the distance knowingly, and she felt like she was going to gag. _You idiot children, you are going to die_. The timer began to count down, and her body froze. One of the kids from District Six accidentally stepped forward and tripped off of their plate, exploding into a million bits in front of a million of eyes. Her face remained stoic, impassive, and she watched the screen.

5… 4… 3… 2…1… Everything exploded. Lelya jumped off of the plate and ran for the forest – if you could call it that. The arena seemed to be kind of barren. The trees all seemed to be dying or dead, and the ground was dry and hard. The other kids who chose to go for the cornucopia were fighting ruthlessly, the boy from One was currently strangling the girl from Five, the large dark male from Three was stabbing the male from Nine with a sword, and several others were engaged in one on one combat. Both of Finnick's kids had made it to the cornucopia and back without a scratch on them, and they were currently running through the dead forest as fast as they could to get away from the others. Johanna looked over to Finnick to find his own expression flat and giving nothing away. _Good for you_, she thought. _Don't give them the satisfaction of knowing what you feel_.

She scanned all of the different tv screens but couldn't seem to spot Jeremiah. _Where the hell is he_? About an hour after the initial bloodbath, she noticed that there weren't four Careers, but five. Who would be with them? There were usually only the four – the two from District One, and the two from District two. The camera panned slightly to show that it was none other than her own tribute. _Jeremiah_. Confusion sparked through her. Maybe he was just trying to get close to them to kill them off one by one? It didn't make any sense. The group trekked through the woods, joking and laughing merrily for several hours. She looked over to Ina to see that she was confused as well; she was frowning slightly and her hand was tapping lightly on the table.

Lelya was in a tree, trying to stay hidden but having a hard time of it given that the tree itself was dead. It soon became clear that Jeremiah and his pack of evil murderous children were enclosing on her position. Johanna was sure that this was good – Jeremiah would bring her into the fold, and the two would be safe for the time being.

Sure enough, moments later they came upon Lelya's tree. The Careers spotted her almost immediately. "Jeremiah, that your girl?" The guy from One was pointing his sword up at her in the tree.

"That's her," he replied. "Lelya, come down, it's alright."

She seemed hesitant, but after a few moments she was scaling back down the tree and landing on the ground in front of them. "Jeremiah! I'm so happy to see you." Her eyes were shining with happiness, and Johanna felt her own heart surge a little with relief. _They're together_.

She looked around the room and wondered how many of the onlookers were watching this particular interaction at the moment. Jeremiah walked up to Lelya and embraced her, his arms going around her and holding her tight. Her own arms went around his neck and they hugged for several moments before she let out a small yelp. She pulled back and looked up into his eyes, a look of shock etched on her face. Johanna was hit with a ray of confusion, and then Lelya began to bleed from her mouth. Jeremiah walked backwards, a dagger in his hand, covered in blood. A cannon sounded, and the Careers all sniggered in delight. _The little bastard had stabbed his own District partner_.

The majority of the hall where she was watching it happen gasped in surprise, but all Johanna could do was focus on not fainting. She pushed herself up from the high-round table and almost fell out of the chair on her way out of it. Everything was quiet – or at least it appeared to be – she couldn't hear anything. She shoved her way through the crowds of people and made her way to the main hall, stumbling with every step. Her head was swimming. If she had been in that arena at this moment, she would kill that little shit herself. Shove an axe into his chest without thinking twice about it.

She could hear someone yelling her name over the ringing in her ears, but willed it away. She wasn't going to stop and talk to Ina and Blight. They were angry, surely. But they didn't know _her_ anger. They didn't know what it felt like to feel _this_. To feel _murder_ itself creeping in.

She increased her pace and began running through the halls, holding her hands over her ears, blocking out everything around her. She did this until she made it to the hotel lobby. But instead of heading to her room, she headed for the bathroom. She slammed the door open and went into the largest stall she could find, not bothering to lock it. That's why she shouldn't have been surprised when it opened moments later. "_GET OUT_!" She screamed wildly, insanely. She turned around to find it was Finnick, chest heaving from running after her. Of course it was him.

"Leave me alone," she ordered.

"No."

"_Leave me alone, Odair_."

"Not a chance." He moved forward and stood closer to her. Her arms were encircling her body tightly and protectively, and she was shaking violently. He wrapped his own arms around her and held her, his chin resting on the top of her head. "It's going to be okay."

"Not a chance," she replied. And she felt herself giving in to the weight of her tired limbs, sinking down to the ground. He moved with her, and they found themselves sitting on the bathroom floor, holding one another.


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you all for your continued support!

The night Lelya died Johanna insisted on being left alone. Finnick walked her to her hotel room and then departed, leaving her with a final glance over his shoulder. She didn't need him treating her like some child; she had grown up years ago. She had been forced to.

She made her way to her dresser and chose more comfortable attire, then climbing into bed and bringing the covers up to her chin. She felt safer covered up, like no one could hurt her. When she had been younger she always imagined that if someone were to come into her room and try and hurt her, her covers would protect her from harm. She was stupid back then, however. A blade would easily make its way through a couple layers of fabric, just as Jeremiah's blade had made it into Lelya's back.

Jeremiah.

_She wanted him dead_.

There was really no plausible, forgivable excuse for what he had done. He had taken advantage of a sweet, innocent girl, and used her trust to betray her.

Not to mention that literally every person in the Capitol was whispering behind her back, claiming that she had somehow influenced this, that she had told him to do it. Questioning her mentoring skills. She didn't care what any of the morons thought about her, but she didn't want to go back to Seven and have her own people think that way about her too. Especially Lelya's family.

"That boy will get what's coming to him," the girl from Eight was saying. Johanna blinked in response and rolled her eyes.

"If God was just, but there is no God."

"Of course there is," she insisted.

"If there is, then why aren't you with him instead of constantly hounding me?" She snapped.

"You need me."

"I don't. And if you're real, why can I hear you and not my family? Why can't I hear Lelya?" She was getting sick of this. Maybe she should declare herself insane and have herself locked up in a ward.

"Your family has moved on, Johanna. Lelya is here, though. She says she is okay, and that you should forgive Jeremiah."

"No way in hell." She pulled the covers up over her head and laid in silence until she fell asleep. Morning came and she was woken up by a loud knock on her door.

"Johanna, open up." It was Ina. She groaned and rolled out of the bed, slowly making her way to the door and opening it. Ina stood in front of her, fully clothed and ready to go to the viewing hall. "Get ready, it's day two."

"Yes, I'm aware. I'm not going."

"Oh yes, you are," Ina's eyes were demanding and it was clear she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Why should I? I don't care if that kid lives. I hope he dies." Regardless of her feelings, she made her way to the bathroom and started the shower.

"Yes, I know you do. And chances are that he will. But we don't know the whole story, and let's remember that he is a child, Johanna. He wants to survive."

"They all want to survive, and yet even Districts One and Two don't kill their partners until the very end – until they are forced to. What he did is despicable, and I am ashamed to have known him at all." She undressed and got into the shower. Ina waited patiently for the next hour as Johanna finished getting ready. She straightened her long dark hair, applied her ashy make up that she wore so well, and put on a tight-fitting green jumper with nude stilettos. "Let's go see him _die_," she grinned with the statement and Ina scoffed in disgust.

They made their way to the hall, and sat at the same high-round table they had yesterday. Blight was already there, clearly intoxicated based on the way his eyes were drooping and his lazy posture.

"Hey there ladiesh," he leered at them, glass in hand. "Come to see the s-shit s-show?"

"I'm here to see our tribute die," Johanna smiled. Blight blinked, taken aback by her words, then laughed loudly and took a swig from his drink.

Based on the screens, there were ten tributes left. The four – no five – Careers, the boy from Three, both of Finnick's kids, a skinny black-haired boy from District Eight, and a girl from District Eleven. _What one is going to chop my boy's head off_? She felt almost bad for having these thoughts, but then she pictured him stabbing Lelya in the back, and all of that went away.

Jeremiah and the other four Careers were currently sitting around a camp fire that they had seemingly built the night before. _Bold move_, she thought. If any of the others saw the smoke and chose to come after them, it could mean death…

But none of them would go after the superior group. They were all hiding. In trees, under rocks, the girl from Eleven had even found a dry cave with a soft sand floor. _Prime real estate_.

Finnick's kids were walking hand-in-hand through the barren forest, talking about their families, their hopes and dreams, all of which would not be coming true. She found herself becoming engrossed in the conversation when suddenly Finnick was pulling out the chair next to her.

"Hey."

"Hey," she responded without taking her eyes off of the screen.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine." Her eyes were still on his tributes. "How are you?"

"I'm… Fine." He clearly was surprised that she was even out in public after her little episode yesterday. She hadn't cried – she didn't do that anymore – but she had pretty much hyperventilated on the floor of the bathroom for a good hour and a half.

"Your kids are still alive," she acknowledged.

"Yeah, they are." She could hear his smile. "Your guy is still alive, too."

"Not for much longer, hopefully." She saw him turn his head towards her when the words were out of her mouth. _He thinks I'm a monster – good – because I am_.

"Johanna – " He started.

"Stop. Just stop." She held up her hand, still not looking him in the eye. She needed a drink. She stood from her chair and made her way through the crowd towards the bar. Upon arrival she ordered a shot of tequila, and downed it as soon as it was delivered. She was ordering her second round when she felt someone come up beside her, their arm touching her own. Her first thought was that it was Finnick, but this arm was not broad, and it was as smooth as satin. She looked to her left to stare into the eyes of Enobaria, one of the former District Two victors. "Can I help you?"

"Your boy killed your girl yesterday, Mason," Enobaria smiled, her razor-like teeth gleaming in the light of the hall.

"Say it ain't so. You noticed that, did you?" She didn't have time for this.

"I have to wonder, is it because he's a bad seed, or was he taught to be so _ruthless_? I almost admire you now."

"That is what you would admire me for, isn't it?"

"Definitely. I thought you were just a timid little girl who won by chance." She was still smiling, and Johanna's stomach churned at the thought of her biting into flesh.

"You don't know much about me, then."

"I know plenty about you. I know about your family, I know about your period of prostitution, I know that there is no way you could ever win an arena fairly." Now her smile was gone. The bitch had come over to instigate something, and she was going to get it.

"I'd like to be in an arena with you, Enobaria. We could find out exactly who would be the winner." She had never liked this woman, even when she had seen the vampire-like harpy win her own games. She had a bad attitude, she was over-confident, and she underestimated her opponents. _Especially this one_.

"Who needs an arena to determine such a thing?" She shoved Johanna backwards. It wasn't until that moment that she realized they had gained some attention. There was a small circle around them, onlookers observing the interaction with wide eyes, whispering among one another. Normally she wouldn't want to give them a show, she wouldn't want to give them the satisfaction, but she would be damned if she was going to let this bitch defeat her in any way. She edged back towards Enobaria and punched her straight in the face. The woman cried out, and there was a deafening crunch that was unmistakably her nose breaking. The crowd of people gasped and moved back a few more paces as Enobaria leapt forward and sent a hard kick into Johanna's ribs. She stumbled backwards, pain shooting through her entire side. Enobaria didn't let up, though. She moved forward and yanked Johanna's hair, shoving her knee into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

Johanna retaliated by breaking free of Enobaria's grasp and jumping on top of her, leading them both onto the ground where she straddled the other woman and held her down by the throat. Both of her hands were encircling her wind pipe, and Enobaria was having trouble breathing. She was thrashing around violently, trying to dislodge Johanna's body from her own, but it was no use.

Johanna looked down into those brown eyes, and saw Enobaria's face turning into Jeremiah's. She strangled the woman even harder, fully prepared to end her life. Enobaria's limbs began to thrash a little less, and her eyes were beginning to close when suddenly Johanna was being ripped away from her by strong arms. Finnick had grabbed her from behind, his arms circling around her stomach in a tight grip, and he was now carrying her away from the scene.

"_LET ME GO_!" She screamed loudly, clawing into his forearms where he was holding her. But he didn't. He kept walking until they were all the way to his own room. He released one of his arms, and she took the opportunity to try and maneuver her way out of his remaining one, but he was still too strong. He swiped his hand over the sensor and kicked the door open once it was unlocked and unhatched. He dragged her all the way to his bed and threw her down on top of it, rounding on her once he had.

"What the hell, Johanna?"

"I'm a grown woman, I don't need a lecture. The bitch deserved it, so I gave it to her." She blew hair out of her face and glared up at him where he was standing over her.

"You need to keep some composure. I know these are your first games, but you are acting like a child."

"I'm no child," she snapped. He held up both hands in defense.

"I'm well aware of _that_, but you need to prove it to other people. Jumping on women thirteen years your senior just makes you look like a hussy who wants attention."

"She knew about my family. About what Snow made me do. How did she know that?"

"Snow keeps the Careers close. The ones who are especially obedient, he even brings into his inner circle. He uses them to help him get things done; to get to people. Chances are he asked her to antagonize you today."

She suddenly felt ashamed. She should've ignored the woman, should've walked away. Instead she had broken her nose and nearly killed her. _But hey_, she thought, _at least I won_. It was at that moment that she realized that she was likely never going to truly be able to be the mature woman who was above petty arguments and bar brawls. She was never going to be able to walk away, or ignore snide comments that were directed at her or the people she loved. But everyone she loved was gone; dead. She looked to Finnick from the edge of the bed where she was sitting, his hands were on his hips and he was staring at her intently, trying to get the message across.

"Do you want to just watch the games from the room? Just the two of us?" Now he was talking again, and he had seemingly dropped the situation with the fang-toothed bitch.

"Will you feed me alcohol?" She grinned.

"Only if you promise not to kick my ass," he grinned back.

"Deal."

The two settled onto the bed, their shoulders adjacent, sharing a large bottle of liquor. They passed it between one another ceremoniously as they watched the games, pointing out the interesting parts, the not so interesting parts, and guessing how the crowd was reacting down in the viewing center. Finnick's kids were currently sitting down under a tree that provided close to no shade, the harsh sun beaming down on them. Throughout the day the Careers had been moving throughout the arena, slowly taking out the extra tributes one by one. The large male from District Three had taken out the girl from One before the others managed to take him down, but he went down regardless.

By the end of the day, only six remained. Finnick's kids, Jeremiah, and the original Careers minus the girl who had died.

"The bastard is still alive," Johanna groaned. She was drunk. She was _pissed_. Finnick looked over at her through his own foggy eyes, raising his eyebrows at her. "He deserves to die, Finnick."

"Maybe so. Maybe my kids will kill him," he smiled; his white teeth shining in the dim light of the room.

"If he makes it out of there – I will kill him."

"Forgive him," the girl from Eight whispered. Johanna ignored it. But then the girl was talking again, and again. And _again_. She kept repeating it over and over. Johanna jumped off of the bed. She ran her hand through her dark hair and looked up at the ceiling. Finnick was watching her warily from where he was laying on his back, his hands behind his head.

"Forgive him," the girl drawled out again.

"_NO_!" She shouted back. Then all was silent. She was a lunatic. Her back was to Finnick, but she could feel his curious gaze on her and she willed him to look away. She knew he wouldn't though. Turning around, she kept her eyes closed, her hand in her hair. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her, just as she knew she would. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What was that about?"

"It was – nothing. I have to go." She smoothed out her jumper, slipped on her shoes, and headed for the door.

"You could stay, Johanna." _What the hell_? _Why would he want her to stay after she had just gone completely mental right in front of his eyes_? She was beginning to question his sanity, and why he insisted on having her around so often when she was clearly so _fucked up_. She turned around and faced him, her eyes meeting his.

"Not tonight, Odair. I'll see you tomorrow," and with that she was out the door.


End file.
